


That Which Wanders is Unaware

by morgianesff



Series: The Saga of Nora [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alien Biology, Amnesia, Asgardians - Freeform, Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, Betrayal, Brother-Sister Relationships, Comic Book Science, Deception, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fanboy Phil Coulson, Finding Inner Strength, Healing, Home Invasion, Implied/Referenced Torture, International Relations, Kidnapping, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Medicinal Drug Use, Mercenaries, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Mistaken Identity, Mythology References, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Past Relationship(s), Phobias, Platonic Relationships, Sad Loki, Scars, Scottish Character, Spies & Secret Agents, Steve Rogers Feels, Trickster Loki, Unconventional Families, Vanaheimr | Vanaheim, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 106
Words: 253,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2297141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgianesff/pseuds/morgianesff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(COMPLETE.) Nora is just a normal woman, with a few abnormal circumstances. All she wanted was to spend the evening watching movies and relaxing with her kitten. Now she is fighting to stay alive, threatened by a man she thought was her friend, and wondering who's this mysterious man that wants her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY ONE

CHAPTER ONE

* * *

TUESDAY, MAY 1ST 2012

1700 HOURS

NASA & S.H.I.E.L.D JOINT DARK ENERGY MISSION, WESTERN DIVISION, PROJECT P.E.G.A.S.U.S

(LOCATION CLASSIFIED)

* * *

NORA ELAINE

S.H.I.E.L.D AGENT, LEVEL ONE

* * *

_Golden, a flash of something golden. Is it a metal? Or just the color? Wait, it's changing, there's a cliff? Yes, now I can see a cliff, it looks like it's sinking into the clouds, or is it rising from them instead?... there are birds too, flocking through the mists...of a waterfall? Yes, it is a waterfall. And green. I can see the color green. I know it's important, but what it is though? What's gree..._  "Nora?"

Hearing my name spoken I jerk up so quickly it almost makes my neck pop. I hadn't even realized I zoned out, let alone so much that I missed the sound of someone walking into the break room on me.

Worse still is the place I apparently took my mini vacation in. There is now a lovely circular smear on the vending machine glass where my forehead used to be.

_Well, this is certainly embarrassing._  It's definitely not the proudest moment in my short history is a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, that's for certain. I also think, given who was 'lucky' enough to find me like this and that he looks a little concerned only makes my shame that much worse.

While trying to rub away the matching red circle from my forehead I turn to a man I've come to call my friend. "Oh! Erik! Hi, I'm sorry, I was just..." I try to think of something that resembles a logical explanation to tell him about why he walked in on me having a very serious moment with a vending machine, but I don't think that's possible.

"...uhm, yeah, I was... just... working on my... court... jester... routine." I finish lamely, pouting a little that my mind failed to come up with something to save my pride, and accepting the simple fact that I got caught looking like a fool.

The overriding expression of concern on his face fades into more of a disbelieving smirk at my lame attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, that certainly an interesting argument, I might have to try that one."

Then Erik's humor slips back a little to show the lingering concern once more as he lives up to his kind predictability.

It doesn't surprise me as much as it did in the beginning, still I find it a little strange when people are genuinely unselfish. I'm not sure exactly where it comes from, but for some reason I just developed this belief that people were naturally inclined to be more callous and self-centered, than kind and caring.

I'm very glad though that I have been thoroughly proven wrong in that regard by most everyone that I've met in my life. Even if sometimes their persistence can be a little annoying, I know it's because they really do care.

"Are you feeling alright? They have you been letting you get enough sleep lately haven't they?" He asks, and I can already see the scolding father routine building about how I shouldn't let them take advantage me even as I assure him of my stability.

"Well, have you been eating enough? You haven't been skipping meals have you?" At this he actually gives me a reprimanding look, like he just assumed I was guilty of such a thing.

"Okay first of all Mister..." I return the scolding look with a finger wave, but we can both tell from my smirk, I'm not serious at all. "...don't lecture me about skipping lunch, when I know for a fact you worked through yours today." He at least has the decency to look a little embarrassed that I apparently caught that.

"And secondly, I don't need you to worry about my weight, I have a dietician for that thank you very much." My pseudo superior look fades to just straight amusement. "She asks me for recipes all the time."

Erik is guilty of that sin is well, only while Shannon is willing to cook for herself when I share a recipe with her, he apparently has no skills in the kitchen and tries to convince me that it is safer for everyone in a mile radius if I just do it for him.

Though most of the men in my life seem to have same problem navigating the perils of the kitchen, he is the only one who has tried complicated scientific equations that are way over my head to convince me. The others just ask, a lot.

"Yes, well that's a 'Privilege of Age' my dear, I can scoff at socially enforced dietary norms." He throws back, using his ever shifting argument of age against me again. He isn't old enough for me to be allowed to worry about him, but apparently is old enough to get away with the very same things he lectures me about by calling them 'Privileges of Age'.

"But in all seriousness my dear, are you okay? You've seemed a little out of sorts lately?"

"Yes. I'm..." Well I would have said fine, if not for the sudden sharp twinge that appeared behind my eyes, taking away all my credibility with a wince. "...thoroughly annoyed with the Powers of the Universe. Thank you, your timing is exceptionally inappropriate as always."  _It's either that or my body disagreeing with the climate control again._

My moment of glaring disdain at the ceiling tiles is ended by the sound of Erik's chuckle. Looking away from the unseen creature of spite that may or may not be out to ruin my day I find Erik is also shaking his head with a large grin touching his cheeks. "You know dear, is a scientific authority, it's probably not a good idea to talk to invisible entity's around me. I might begin to question your sanity."

That gets a rather unrestrained laugh out for me for a few seconds, before I calm it back down. "Oh I'm sorry. I thought you were the one who brags, rather proudly I might add, that you had a hangover omelet made by the God of Thunder."

"Correction..." He says back with a smirk. "They were scrambled eggs and I have witnesses." To that statement we both share a small laugh, just for the absurd fact that these things are actually real in our lives, but then the conversation quickly shifts back to the everyday mundane.

"So you're done for the day I take it?" I hear his question, directed more at the back of my head then my face, as I turn back to the vending machine. When I notice that it still has my forehead print on it I mentally rename it the 'vending machine of shame', but still don't bother to draw more attention to it by cleaning it off.

Instead I just proceed to take my banana muffin quickly from its jaws. Despite my apparent skill in the kitchen, ever since I was introduced to this cheaply made treat its been one of my guilty pleasures.

I also make a point to avoid adding talking to machines to the list of embarrassing and unusual things I've done in the last few minutes. Choosing instead to finish getting the snack and turn around before I answer that question. "Yep..."  _Is well is the question I know will be coming after it._  "...and don't worry, I didn't forget."

Apparently my culinary skill extends to coffee-making as well, at least according to Erik. He claims I make the best coffee ever but I really think it's just because I make sure the pot never runs out while I'm here. This wouldn't be the first time he checks to make sure I started a fresh one before I leave, and I know it won't be the last. "Your cup's already full."

I've gotten into the habit of doing that too. At the end of the my shift the last of the previous pot goes into a small travel mug, or a larger thermos depending on how much is left, so I can start brewing more. Then if I don't see him in here, I just bring it to him when I say goodbye for the evening and I have to say goodbye in the evening.

I thought I was being considerate at first, when he seemed particularly busy with something I would leave the coffee waiting for him in the fridge, or let one of the security guards bring it to him so I wasn't distracting him but after the third time that happened he actually tracked me down and told me he didn't care if it was against protocol, he wanted to see me at least once each and everyday.

Because of that I thought perhaps he felt some sort of attraction to me, but when I brought that up I couldn't have a that kind of relationship with anyone he turned a couple shades of pink and said while he was honored that I cared enough about his feelings to turn him down properly, he considered me a bit out of his league as well as age range, and he honestly didn't want anymore than to be my friend.

That conversation happened in here, and is what led to us really establishing our coffee little exchange tradition, but usually when we meet in here at the end of the night he likes to prepare it himself. He has this notion in his head that making me do it is somehow taking advantage of me. It wasn't an argument worth fighting over, so I let him win it even if I find it just silly really.

That's what he is doing right now, or trying to at least. After seeing him open one of the cupboard doors only to frown and move on to the next I offer my help. "Left side, behind the filter packets." His hands stop for a second as he processes my words, then opens the correct cupboard and succeeds in his hunt for the sugar. "Thank you dear."

Allowing him the time to prepare his coffee just the way he likes it, I take advantage of the ticking clock as well. I have a lonely pack of muffins in my hand that's just begging to be devoured, and neither of us are in any real hurry.

Once he finishes making his coffee with three sugars and five creams he joins me at the table leaning against its edge right along with me despite ignored my concern for the state of his back. Another one of those darn 'Privilege's of Age" topics.

"So are you planning on heading back to the lab than?" He makes this idle conversation as an excuse to change the subject before it comes up and to let me finish my cheap sugar rush.

"Yes sir." I tell him, doing my best to not talk with my mouth full by shoving what I'm chewing to the side of my cheek while at the same time avoiding letting my mouth look like a lopsided chipmunk impression. "I have one more stop before I'm home free."

_And there's the 'but he's dangerous Nora' look..._  I can always see the exact instance when Erik recognizes who I'm talking about. He is my friend, but that doesn't mean that my other friends are automatically his friends is well. It's something we just don't bring up anymore. We're both adults and we came to an understanding about it. He accepts that nothing he says will ever change the kind of relationship I have with the 'Hawk' as he calls him, and I accept that he will never see Clint beyond his job description.

I figured that out the first day I got here. After what felt like hours of mission statements, emergency protocols and escape routes, and individual assignments later I was finally stepping out of that room with my shiny new I.D and a shrink wrapped square with my S.H.I.E.L.D uniform in my hand, and then there he was just leaning against the wall with a smirk and a casual hey kiddo.

I actually squeaked and almost dropped my stuff, I was that happy to see him. It had been almost a year since the last time he had been more than a voice or an image on my screen. I wasn't embarrassed by sound then, and I'm not embarrassed by the memory of it now. Even his snort of a chuckle when I did that didn't embarrass me, behind his extra casual facade he knew I was probably going to do that.

Not long after I found myself hearing my name being called and I turned around to see Dr. Selvig, a very nice older gentleman I was once in charge of showing around the S.H.I.E.L.D base I was stationed at. I was happy to see him too, but I was a little less happy to see him when he told me that he heard that the 'Hawk' had taken me somewhere, and wanted to know if he hurt me. It shrank a little more behind a blanket of annoyance when he said if I'd been intimidated into saying nothing I could tell him.

So I did, I told him that I would be the last person in the world that Clint would ever hurt, and if he had a problem with him he could take it up with him, then walked off to meet the approaching form of Clint and see the surprise he said he had waiting for me, which turned out to be a pretty big surprise.

Erik's features were set in a whether sour scowl then, like they are now, but unlike then they fade quickly with resignation.

"So do you want me to walk you back?" He asks as I finally finish my muffin, right down to the crumbs off my fingers. "Sure, why not." I answer pushing up of the table with a bit of a skip as I travel over to the garbage can to get rid of the wrapper.

By the time I finish with that he has already picked up my purse for me, and has beaten me to the door. He is very determined about that too, he always has to hold the door for me, and he even goes so far is to bow and say ladies first sometimes, just to make me smile. Like right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be part of a series, which is obvious since I listed it is such, but in terms of chronological order, this takes place as the 5th story in the series. As you read on I am sure you will come to understand why I started the series at this section of my characters life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY ONE

CHAPTER TWO

* * *

TUESDAY, MAY 1ST 2012

1719 HOURS

NASA & S.H.I.E.L.D JOINT DARK ENERGY MISSION, WESTERN DIVISION, PROJECT P.E.G.A.S.U.S

(LOCATION CLASSIFIED)

* * *

NORA ELAINE

* * *

The walk to the lab was quick and uneventful, unless of course you count his success in talking me into bringing him some more of those delicious country apple dumplings he is so fond of. I did negotiate a small truce though, that he could only have them after I saw him sit down and eat all of his lunch. He agreed, reluctantly of course. He also asked if there was a chance I would be willing to make that particular lunch too? I told him maybe next time.

That conversation took about is long is the walk, so with that bit of business taken care of, and the fact that I'm not allowed more than a few feet into the giant room itself without an escort due to my level one clearance, we said our goodbyes for the night, and he went back to his work.

Sans my purse of course.

I had to remind him to give me that back, because his mind had already gotten distracted by science and mathematical equations. He is very focused on his work, it's like a switch is thrown every time he is in this room. I'd even say with the level of dedication he puts into his research it might be akin to his own version of the Holy Grail.

Now with that out-of-the-way my attention turns toward the ladder leading up to the ceiling, and the other major half of my end of the work day routine. My rather unpopular 'big brother'.

Clint isn't actually my brother in the biological sense of the word. He isn't even a brother by some marital connections. We have no true family link between us, but I can't think of a more appropriate term for our relationship then that. He's more than a best friend, but less than a lover. I've never been able to think of a better label than brother.

He is of course way up in the scaffolding, in what the scientist's have not so endearingly dubbed the 'nest'. It's where he spends most of his time when he's on the clock, because according to him it's apparently the best vantage point to see what's going on as if that makes any sense.

It's also where I intend to go, that is at least if he says it's okay.

Now of course I'm not going to shout up at Clint to ask. As amusing as it would be, mostly for him, it would leave me down here with some very irritated scientists and personally I don't want that.

Fortunately for my well-being one of the first things S.H.I.E.L.D required me to learn was basic military hand signs. So I ask him if I'm allowed up there right now or not, using the motions 'me' and 'come' to form the question.

The response I get is a very Clint like one. Without turning to look down at me he returns hand signs of his own, and I have to repress the snicker that almost makes its way out. He told me to 'hurry up'.

After getting one of the guards at the entrance to escort me through the room to the ladder I situate my messenger bag sized purse so it rests against my back, and isn't in my way I make quick work of the ladder up to his perch. Clint finds its amusing that I need to prepare to climb a ladder, I think it would be less amusing if I fell and died because of my preference for this giant cloth sack.

By the time I reach the top of the perch I find that he doesn't seem to have moved at all, unless of course you count the fact that he has started twiddling his thumbs in apparent impatience, and is wearing a small smirk in response to my slight scowl. "So you know they think you're drugging me again." It's an observation, not a question.

That sentence to an outsider with no knowledge of him would sound like extremely out-of-place way to start a conversation, and to someone who has heard of him, probably even a dangerous thing to say to an agent like Hawkeye. Coming from me however, it's not directed at Hawkeye, just Clint and it's perfectly normal. In fact it's so normal it even makes his smirk turn into more of a grin. He doesn't reply though, he just pats the spot next to him is he continues to watch the scientist go about their tasks.

Following his suggestion I do just that and quickly regret it. I don't know how he does this every day, for hours at a time. I've only been doing it for a few seconds and already I've don't it long enough. This grating that makes up the platform can't possibly be comfortable to him, it certainly isn't to me. I even try sitting exactly like he does, it doesn't work. "And I hate your inability to cramp. Again."

"It's because you haven't learned the secret yet. Again." He throws back with a little bit of a chuckle as he watches me settle into a state of uncomfortable next to him. "So what am I giving you this time hmm? Is it anything good?"

I just tilt my head at him with a small but growing smirk. "An empty bento box to start with." That at last earns a quick laugh from him. Then he finally decides to move part of his body. His arms leave the metal railing in front of him as he twists to the side and produces the object in question that has up until now been hidden by his mass so he can hand it to me.

This is the tradition we do. I fill the small stackable tin container with is much dried food is I can fit in it and give it to him so he has something to eat during his long hours up here. I also make sure it isn't too salty or spicy because he isn't supposed to leave his post more than a few time a day. I have three bento boxes I use for this, so we can exchange the empty one for a full one, both in the morning, and in the evening and I still have two to fill for the next day.

Once we make the trade I set it on my lap, raising my legs just a little to make sure it doesn't roll down the slope of them and fall. I wouldn't want to even think about the trouble that could get me in, the noise alone would scare the scientists straight out of their skin.

Then, when I'm quite sure it won't go anywhere I twist around a little, and pull my bag back around to my side. It takes me a few seconds of groping blindly in the black hole that is my purse, and I once again find myself wondering why I even like this thing so much. Sometimes it is just so much work to find what I'm looking for in it.

I forget all about that annoyance just as quickly as I always do though when my hands finally feel out the shape I am looking for, and succeed in freeing it from the depths.

It's handed off to Clint quickly, but for the time being it only takes up its usual spot at his side. A full Thermos is also exchanged for his empty one in the same manner.

Once he has them he decides its his turn to dig for something, but in his case its information. "Nora, your breath smells like a banana muffin?" His question doesn't have anything to do with him having doubts about his nose, it has more to do with the finicky nature of my stomach. "Yes Clint, I took my prednisone before I ate them like a good girl." I throw back rolling my eyes with a grin at his big brother concern. The doctors say I have a minor sulfite sensitivity so I'm not supposed to eat things like vending machine muffins but did I mention HE introduced me to them?!

"So?" For a second the question confuses me a little, then I remember the question from not even a minute ago. "Oh right. The other drugs 'you're giving me'. Uhm, I'm not sure. I mean, if you're slipping me things to make me hang out with you I hope their good. I think I deserve at least that much."

This time the laugh is a longer one. "Oh yeah..." I can see his shoulders shaking a little even as he manages to mute the sound.

It was really irritating at first to both of us. But I think it bothered him more than me, because it was always 'he did something' to me. He was always the villain. There's just this belief here that a girl like me and a guy like him shouldn't have anything to do with each other, and the fact that we do must mean something is wrong.

A belief I unfortunately know Erik has had a large hand in perpetuating.

But we've both reached finally the point where we just don't care anymore. Yes it's still irritating sometime, but the fact of the matter is we're friends, more than friends even, and we don't need to justify that to anyone else but ourselves. If they can't understand it that isn't our fault or our responsibility to make them.

Now it's mostly something of a joke to us because really it shouldn't be so impossible to believe, and some of the reasons they come up with are just absurd. "...I only get the best mind altering substances for you kiddo."

I finally give up my latest attempt to find out just how Clint stays comfortable sitting like that, and opt for laying down and stretching out instead. It makes it at least a 'little' less uncomfortable I think. "So..." I trail off as I fold my arms under my head to pillow them so the grating isn't gouging into the thin skin of the back of my skull. "... boring is usual then?"

From this angle I can't see his face very well, but I can still see his cheek muscles crinkle up at the edges with a smile. "You sound disappointed."

My response is a silent shrug, one I know he will still somehow catch even with his back to me just because history has proven that to me many times. "I am."

As I continue talking I let my eyes drift over the ceiling. "I mean, we have this super cool piece of space tech..." They eventually notice a rather distinct looking pock mark in the ceiling above us, and begin forming a story to its existence.

"...and all they do is poke it all day. That has to be so boring." The story I was forming turned into a question, and one I still can't come up with the answer to, so I just ask. "Did you blow up the ceiling by any chance?"

"You are aware..." There is a pause and a chuckle when I ask that question at the end before he continues on. "...that we want the 'super cool piece of space tech' to stay boring right? Boring is good."

"Boring is boring." I fire back, now holding up one of my fingers and phantom tracing the small crater out of my reach, trying to see if somehow I can pinpoint the epicenter of the supposed blast. Maybe if I study it carefully enough I can even figure out what arrowhead he used.

I let my arm fall back down in limp disappointment when he tells me that mark was already there. Then letting out a sigh because I was sort of becoming attached to the idea of Clint pulling a Robin Hood moment, I lift my legs up, and pushing them against the lowest bar use the force to pivot my body back into a sitting position. "I was really starting to enjoying that theory, thanks a lot."

I can see him smirk at that, his eyes once again pinpointing some minor detail I can't see. "You're welcome." That earns him a fake huff. He then informs me that this is apparently a 'bow free zone' for a reason, which makes up for my disappointment, because I can bet it means he probably thought about it too, or maybe even did something like it once.

This is why I like Clint so much. Most people don't understand it because all they can see is his reputation and his job description. They see him as nothing except one of S.H.E.I.L.D's assassin's. But I knew Clint before I knew that word, let alone the meaning of it. I know the Clint behind that shell.

When he isn't on the job he's a lot less serious and unapproachable, unfortunately he is on the job most of the time here and he wears that demeanor like it's a cloak made of Kevlar when he is working. His job doesn't exactly encourage the idea of making friends in the work place, most of the time it requires him to be intimidating and depending on the orders, perhaps fatal as well. Unfortunately for Clint's social circle, even if he says he doesn't care about it, scaring people is a thing he seems very good at.

But if they could just hear even one of our conversations and see him smile they'd know why I swear up and down that he isn't always as bad as they think. They would know why 'innocent and sweet Nora' chooses to spends her time with 'him'.

"Uhn..." Those thoughts die is I feel the invading force of another one of those pulsing twinge attacks push its way up behind the bridge of my nose, prompting me to try and knowingly fail to massage it away. "Another headache?"

Letting my fingers drop away in defeat from the bridge of my nose I glance at his profile yet again and shake my head. "More like a dull throb this time."

It's no secret that I've been having headaches semi frequently ever since I came to this base. My body just can't seem to come to terms with the desert environment out here, or it's just stubbornly refusing to. So every once in a while my head ends up suffering because if it.

That response gets a small albeit unconcerned nod from Clint. He knows it's nothing very serious, only an annoyance that warrants some aspirin every now and again which is why he suggests it in his own unique way. "You're almost out, I have some."

"No thanks..." That earns a curious look from him. Clint has one the greatest attentions to detail I have ever seen and sometimes I just can't figure out how he knows the things he knows. Like right now, when it's a little creepy how he knows the number of pills in my bottle. "...I still have enough for a dose." I tell him, receiving another of his casual shrug is I twist back around to dig them out of the oversized bag at my side.

After the few seconds of blind searching my fingers recognize the rough texture of its snap on cap, and the sound of the pills shifting in the small plastic container reach my ears. Then wrapping my fingers around its shape I pull it out. "See, I ..." But suddenly end up throwing it as those words terminate and I shriek out, "SWEET JESUS CLINT!"

I turned around, only to find he has given up him human statue routine and his face is now less than an inch from mine, scarring me enough that I almost jump out of my skin.

His recovery is substantially quicker than mine. Even while laughing at my expression he manages to rescue my falling bottle of pills by catching it with the top of his foot and kicking it back up into his awaiting hands. His exceptional eye - hand coordination that allows him to be such a great marksmen extends to his other appendages is well.

"Careful butter fingers." He says, still looking at me directly instead of from the side with that giant self pleased smile on his lips.

"You're a jerk, just for the record." I tell him as I catch my breath with a glare. That only makes him laugh as he tosses the pills back to me. "Just for the record..." He grins even more and holds up his hand is he makes a point of shifting each finger. "...that's five times."

This is a little game of his, and one I never actually agreed to either. If he can catch me off guard ten time, I have to go out for a beer with him. As much as I hate that he's right, he is. He has gotten me like that a few times since I was reassigned to P.E.G.A.S.U.S and it's horrible. He shouldn't be able to do that. I'm not a jumpy person.  _Or at least that's what I keep trying to tell myself._

The moment kind of comes to a standstill for both of us though when a note of static echoes from the radio at his hip, and is then followed by the familiar and irritated voice of none other than Erik. "I'd appreciate it if she continues breathing Mr. Barton. I would be hard pressed to find someone 'willing' to replace her."

My initial reaction was just a look of blank surprise is I realized he was sort of implying I did the menial labor nobody else wanted to do. It only gets worse when I see Clint roll his eyes, snatching the radio off his belt to deliver a snarky reply. "My apologies, Doctor. I'm not done with her yet, and you've already had your turn today so you're going to have to wait."

Hearing that, I can't stop the small bout of giggles that form which gets me a grinning wink from Clint. This isn't really anything new. Erik has radioed up here to check on me before, and after the first few times of taking it seriously, Clint began to find it annoying, and decided that nothing is his assignment objective said he had to humor the doctor so he began to toy with him instead. As for me, it isn't like I can really stop either of them.  _I Should know, I've tried._

With that in mind I just let my eyes roll knowing this might go on for a while and sort of just filter the conversation out. I take the time instead to deal with my early issue of the throb that if left alone will end up growing into a headache, and pop a few of the aspirin, chasing them down with my bottle of tea.

Only I end up almost choking on it when I hear a particularly attention catching sentence from Clint. "You don't need to worry about my influence Doctor, it won't start kicking in for at least another ten minutes."  _I can't believe he...!_

My outrage about him playing on the rumor that he is drugging me, especially at the specific instance when anybody looking can see me taking some pills is a little delayed by more choking, thanks to the now half melted aspirin that is lodged rather aggressively in the back of my throat.  _Ugh, god it burns!_

His entirely unsympathetic reaction to my distress that he caused only makes me more upset. As I let out a sort of gagging hiss, he just turns to look at me with a raised eyebrow and snickers with a poorly repressed laugh. That earns him a small plastic projectile aimed at his head, which he of course catches with infuriating ease.

"Try gargling." He suggests, finally showing some humanity even if he's still wearing that annoying smirk. The suggestion earns him a suspicions sort of scowl, which only makes him grin more. He just wants to see me make another funny noise, I know it. "What? It will help. Trust me."

That just makes my eyes narrow yet again, and his expression becomes even fuller of false innocence.

I do it though, just because it's starting to feel like the aspirin's going to melt through my esophagus soon. And much to my annoyance it works, and makes him look far too pleased with that success.

"Oh shut up" I growl at him a bit hoarsely, letting out something of a cross between a cough and a laugh at the end. "And give me the radio." I need to tell Erik I'm fine, I just forgot how to use my throat for a second.

He surrenders the little black block of technology without a fuss, dangling it in front of me by the antenna before I snatch it from him with anger that is about as genuine as his look of offense.

"Nora?" I disregard him for a second as once again I hear Erik's concerned voice coming from the radio. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah..." My throat decides to make me cough again right there.  _Seriously, the Universe is ruining my credibility today..._  "Everything's fine" I tell him as I do a quick check below to figure out which one is him down there, not that it's hard considering he is one of the few who isn't in uniform or a lab coat.

"Clint's just being difficult..." I turn my eyes to him at that point with a 'I dare you to say something' look. It only succeeds in temporarily silencing him because the idea that I could actually shut him up is ludicrous. "...and I swallowed an ASPIRIN wrong. Don't worry, really, everything's fine, promise."

There is a moment of silence on the radio, and the fact that he is too far away for me to see his expression doesn't help me judge the situation either. Neither do the words that he finally does send over the radio. "Put him back on please."

"What?! Why do you want to talk to him again?!" My response is a rather quick and passionate one, but I am justified in that annoyance. It seems like when it comes to my well-being, my opinion just doesn't count.  _I said I was okay! Why is that never enough?_

My reaction naturally prompts another one out of Clint first. "What, now people can't talk to me?" Since he has been so dead set on being a smart ass through this whole conversation I give him smart ass remark back. "No, now shush."

Apparently however that was the wrong thing to do. His eyes widen in surprise for a second, then narrow in annoyance. "Nora..." Even his tone sounds a little dangerous. "...give me the radio or I'm gonna tickle you."

It's out of my hands and airborne before he can even finish that sentence. "Here ya go!" I say back quickly is I squeak out that sentence with a voice that belongs in a body half my age.

He just grins for a second at my frightened nervousness, then goes back into serious 'Kevlar cloak' mode. "Barton here."

Erik doesn't offer so much as a semblance of a greeting back. Instead his voice sounds stern with some warning edge in there as well. "I'd like to remind you, Agent Barton, that as the lead scientist on this project, she is part of my staff and so are you. So when you are 'done with her' I'd like her back, with all her pieces still functioning and accounted for if you think you can manage that."

I can tell this time that it is less amusing and more annoying to Clint, it's even a little annoying to me. I understand Erik's concern but I trust Clint and that should be enough for him. "I'll do my best 'sir'" He offers back, his building distaste for my scientist friend showing and if I'm totally honest even I am getting a little tired too of possessive over-protectiveness he's developed since I came here.

If Erik had a reply to that last note of sarcasm neither of us heard it. Instead the next sound from the radio was a small click, and the little green light from it fades out. It won't stay off for long of course, but just long enough to get the message across.

"That old prick deserves a muzzle." I won't tell him he shouldn't call Erik that, or threaten him either. Another automatic response I don't verbalize is the reminder that Erik is just trying to look out me. I don't say any of these because I know Clint knows this already. He's told me himself that he is glad I'm making friends and that the old man cares about me, which just makes Erik's behavior even worse.

"Natasha might have a few you could borrow you know, they're probably sized for Tony Stark though" Is the response I give him instead. It succeeds in getting the reaction I hoped for, the annoyance leaves him for his amused smile once again.

"And that, my little coffee girl, is why you're so awesome." He says with a chuckle giving my shoulder a playful nudge.

I give him a fake pout as I proceed to smooth out the nonexistent flaw of my uniform. "I'll have you know mister, that I am no mere coffee girl. I have been trained in the fine art of never decaffeinating, by the great Goddess Caffeina herself." I even go so far in my silliness to stick out my tongue.

For a few seconds his response is just blinking, then his mouth forms into a lazy half smirk. "I think they're right. You're definitely on drugs" I can't even pretend I'm offended by that, and trying to suppress the laugh that bubbles out of me is even more impossible.

"Now get out of here oh Priestess of Percolation." He chuckles. "Go home and get some rest."

I nod, standing up stretching out as my feet settle on the flat surface under them. I really don't know how he does it, but I'm glad I don't have to. Secret or not it would drive me nuts.

Re-adjust my bag over my shoulder and against my back before I make my way back down the ladder I offer up a few more parting words in the form of a very important question. "Oh yeah, want anything for dinner tomorrow?"

Wednesday is one of the two days a week he gets the evening off so he usually comes over to my house for supper and to just relax for a few hours. Even a highly trained super assassin needs time away from people who hate and or fear him every once in a while.

I can see him think about it for a moment, then he just shakes his head. "Nah, surprise me. Whatever you make, it will be good anyways."

That earns him a chuckle and a nod. "Alright then. Surprise it is. Oh, and Clint? Don't work to hard."

He doesn't answer me back verbally, opting for a snort and half-hearted wave instead as his attention drifts fully back to his job and I begin my descent down to the lab below and beyond.

Reaching flat ground once again I don't miss the way Erik's eyes seem to be looking higher than his screen, even if his head hasn't lifted with them. I offer him one last wave goodbye, but follow it with an over dramatic motion telling him to get back to work.

The security guard who met me at the bottom of the ladder doesn't miss it either by his grin, and as we reach the doorway I realize neither does Tina given that she is audibly chuckling.

She is one of the scientists that we have from NASA working with us, and part of Erik's personal team.

As usual she has her blond hair pulled up in a neat bun, and her spotless white lab coat buttoned up without a wrinkle present. According to her she likes to present a professional image in the work place. According to me it's because of the 'academic crush' she admits to having on Erik and that it might just be a little more than academic. "He is watching you leave again, let me guess..."

I nod back with a small smirk. "Their harassing each other, as usual." I say with a smirk. "Try and keep him on task please?" Erik is far less likely to annoy Clint if he is kept busy.

Her smile says I have nothing to worry about even if her words don't. This isn't the first time Clint and Erik have butted heads, nor most likely the last. It's also obviously not the first time I've asked Tina to do this favor for me. I'm not sure if we've known each other long enough to call it friendship yet, but we certainly get along just fine when we run into each other.

But then our few free seconds in passing are used up, and I let her get back to entering the lab. She still has to get to work on schedule and doesn't have time to stand around talking to me in the hallway.

I too have things I need to get done. Getting out of here is top on that list, followed closely by a mini debate about whether a bubble bath or a movie marathon as my relaxation method of choice tonight. That will be the last major decision of my evening before I go to bed tonight, which I will settle during my car ride home.  _Hopefully._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be part of a series, which is obvious since I listed it is such, but in terms of chronological order, this takes place as the 5th story in the series. As you read on I am sure you will come to understand why I started the series at this section of my characters life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY ONE

CHAPTER THREE

* * *

TUESDAY, MAY 1ST 2012

1830 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D CIVILIAN SURVEILLANCE UNIT #7121482301 (STATUS: ACTIVE)

RAWLINS WYOMING

* * *

NORA ELAINE

CIVILIAN

* * *

The ride home took an hour total after I finally made it out of the compound's numerous security checks and to the parking garage where my vehicle was waiting or me. But only a grand total of five minutes in that hour time span were spent in my internal debate of relaxation methods. A couple of seconds into minute six I had a brilliant idea, and was even quite pleased with myself for thinking of it.  _Who said I had to pick one? Its my evening I'm gonna do both._

That unfortunately still left me with about fifty minutes of travel time that now lacked a distraction, though that didn't take very long to make a decision on either. It took me about is long is it took me to press the play button. I choose music, French music, and to be precise Mozart l'Opéra Rock. An awesome symphony of classical music with modern flair, and one of my favorite CD's as well.

I absolutely love the way the French language sounds, I have ever since I first heard it drift out of the speakers of an unexpected present. Even though I will admit that my private attempts to speak it, let alone sing it, would probably leave any true French speaker appalled. That is why they are private though, and what the generous use of the volume knob is for.

By the time I reached the point where I-80 turns into W Spruce St. the French music is regretfully turned off and a blue tooth is placed in my ear instead, forcing me to endure the much less pleasant sounds of a woman's heavily accented voice complaining to her friend how if her husband yelled at her one more time for overcooking dinner she was going to take him out to the desert.

That is the secondary part of my job, and the reason, if you don't count Clint's level of influence, I am allowed to live off base. I, as well is a few other lesser agents have the assignment of living in the surrounding towns and monitoring the local population for any signs of an intelligence leak or plot, reviewing any conversations that have been flagged for words or phrases of interest in them and determining their potential threat level or lack there of.

The P.E.G.A.S.U.S base is after all a highly classified research facility. It would be foolish to think they didn't have a very expansive network in place to make sure it stayed that way. I am well aware that what I am doing right this second is 'unconstitutional' by it's very definition, I just personally don't really see the problem with it but I suppose living my whole life in the shadow of S.H.I.E.L.D has affected my opinion on certain things like that. Sometimes it's what you don't know that keeps you safest and happiest.

Turning again where 14th Street runs into W Spruce I let my eyes scan over the population currently milling around The Office parking lot. It's not very busy on Wednesday night's and tonight is no different as only about ten or so patrons are standing outside at the patio of the small bar chatting with a cellphone, a cigarette, or both in their hands. A few even take notice of my passing. One waves to me, prompting me to wave back, then mumble my lack of appreciation as I pass out of his line of sight.

Oh not good, that was Miss Harriman's nephew. I've never met the man in person before, but I had been shown a picture of him, and my mind just didn't connect the two in time to stop my hand.

Miss Harriman is my neighbor and as neighbors go she's nice enough, she isn't loud or inconsiderate when she has company over; she doesn't have a dog to keep me up at night, or a dog at all to my knowledge. She is simply a nice, somewhat elderly woman after her husband passed away last year decided that she needed a change of venue and moved into the house next to mine not long before I came to town. Which is partly what leads to my problem. She is lonely, living in a new town which I completely understand, but the way she copes with that is by involving herself in the lives of others.

Specifically the life of the young single woman who recently moved in right next door because 'she too just wanted a change'. Or otherwise known is Me.

For some reason she is of the 'really' old fashioned belief that a young woman's life isn't complete without a man in it. Now I wouldn't mind that so much if her belief could settle with the concept of friends, but it continues to the idea of romance, and or marriage. Both of which are completely off the table for me.

And of course her sister has a son about my age, one who is very polite and handsome in her opinion but has not had much luck with woman. According to her all his former girlfriends were horrible in personality and appearance, but I would be just the kind of girl he needs. I sat through that whole conversation without giving in to the urge to gag, and for that I rewarded myself with some pretty epic cookies.

I'm serious on the use of the word epic is the descriptor. They involved Oreo cookies, double stuff of course because anything less would be a culinary faux pas of the highest order, and chocolate chips cookie dough, and brownie batter which now that I think about it probably makes calling it a cookie incorrect so maybe I should... _not let myself get distracted by dessert until I am actually out of the car and can do something about it._

I really had to force myself to stop thinking about that 'not a cookie' delicacy because at the time I still had a distance to go before I got home. My skill in the kitchen comes from my love of being in it. Once I learned how to cook I've never really stopped doing it, or thinking about it. But that's not the point.

The point is I've been dealing with it as patiently as I can. I know she means well by it, she thinks I must be lonely too despite my reassurances; she just wants to see her nephew happy, so this way she thinks she can accomplish both. But there are still times I just want to cut her out of my life completely. It would be so much easier if I could tell her why I don't want to be in a relationship with her nephew.

Unfortunately I can't. Being a single woman is part of my cover, and being personable is part of my job. I need to interact with the people in this town, and I also need to talk to her specifically because if anyone knows the inner workings of this area it's her. If there were a hierarchy to the gossip around here, Miss Harriman would be the queen. So when your job is to keep your ears open for any potential leaks, who better to talk to then a woman who hears everything and doesn't mind sharing.

Thankfully the Universe is on my side tonight, and it's about time, it's been busy undermining me all day. As I reach my block and roll toward the end I am met with a sight of relief. Her lights aren't on, not a single one in her whole house unless you count the porch light.  _Oh thank you God, she's sleeping._

After coming in early to work a shift and a half today, as well as Clint and Erik's little spat on the way out, all I want to do is relax for the rest of the evening. I don't want to have to feel like I'm some sort of prize-winning pony set to be bred off. I know she doesn't mean it like that, but sometimes the way she talks about it I just get this impression that her high opinion of me has to do more with my assumed 'genetic stock' then anything I've done here so far.

With that thought still running through my head as I pull into my driveway I've made the decision to work quickly, I don't want to give them the chance to catch me outside. I may have dodged a bullet so to speak with her, but that doesn't mean there won't be more. After all, being the new girl in a small town seems to be something very interesting because Miss Harriman isn't the only one obsessed with me, she's just the closest.

Turning the key and pulling it out of the ignition I let my 'Rubicon' go to sleep for the night. 'She' is a royal blue jeep outfitted with an awesome autopilot A.I installed in it that makes up for me not knowing how to drive yet. It was bought for me by Clint as a surprise, he knew I was coming out here before I did and thought I would like it. He also bought it with the original paint job, the color purple. I got into a little 'trouble' when I had it repainted to royal blue, he teased me that I choose that color because of my 'crush' on Captain America.

My argument was, and still is that he was being ridiculous. I didn't have a crush on Captain America, I just wanted something that wasn't PURPLE that's all; besides royal blue is a great color. Needless to say, it wasn't my most convincing argument ever.

He even came back with the argument that if I just wanted a different color I could have gone with black or red. So I told him that then I'd be copying Natasha colors, and stepped right into his 'ah ha, so I was right' moment, but I shut him up with the suggestion of painting it red and gold, and then I was the one laughing at his scowl.

Speaking of Natasha my favorite resident Miss Super Spy, I'm sort of glad she isn't here to see me right now because of the embarrassment I'd have to face if I did this in front of her. I'm ducking down next to the driver side tire, doing my best to shut the door without a sound, and still wincing at the tiny click it makes is I look around to make sure no one heard that.

I even move to my door at a low sprint, and by low I mean in the vertical sense. I'm in such a hurry tonight I don't even stop to enjoy the sight of the small decorative flower bed I have framing the walk way. It is a very pretty little garden and I am proud of it because I did it myself, and despite what Clint likes to believes none of the flowers are fake.

Then my attempt at haste leads to me failing my already pathetic imitation of acting like a spy, I drop my keys.  _And that folks is exhibit A for why I would make such a horrible spy!_

By the time I actually make it in the house and let the weight of my back shut the door for me I am only given a second before my thoughts are taken off my embarrassment. The relief is thanks to my handsome housemate, whose small thud as his feet meet the carpet alert me to his presence.

He must have been sleeping on the couch, no doubt waiting for my return. So now that I'm home at last he is clearly very happy to see me, and about to climb right up my pants if I'd let him.

Before his claws can do any damage to the uniform I aid him in the task and just lean down to scoop him up in the air, an effort he disagrees with in his own appreciative way. "Awe, hey Jar-Jar baby."

The way his little body squirms in earnest answers the question well enough, but I ask it anyways. "Did mama's little boy miss me?" He is always so happy to see me when I get home, and his excitement is visibly greater with each passing hour I'm not here.

It honestly makes me feel a bit guilty, I don't like the idea of leaving him home alone, but I can't just stay home from work because my kitten has some minor separation anxiety issues. I understand that my obligations to S.H.I.E.L.D come first but it doesn't help that my kitten knows how to pout, which is what he is currently doing since I'm not giving him what he really wants.

Once I concede though, I can practically feel his whole little body shake in delight. His purring is so strong that its been compared to a mini-gun of all things, and on more than one occasion. He shows his appreciation that I'm back in other ways too, his small head rubbing almost aggressively into the side of my cheek is he clings expertly to my shoulder.

This time I don't bother unhooking his tiny claws from the material. Before I had to so he wouldn't damage the uniform, but now there is the protective layer of my plaid wool bomber jacket. It hides enough of the uniform to keep it from being recognized as one, and keeps me warm enough on the ride home through the desert since I love driving with the windows down.

I'm not sure where he learned this strange little habit of his, nor do I much care, in fact I find it sort of adorable. He loves to be up high, which seems to be normal for most cats, but where he is unusual is that he sees humans as something to perch on. He rides around on people's shoulders like he thinks he is a parrot.

Something else that separates him from the usual is that he is incredibly skilled at finding ticklish spots. This seems to be endlessly fun for him, playing attack of the tickle monster, and its fun for me too until he stops trying to tickle me and decides he wants to suckle instead. This something the vet said was because he was separated from his mother too soon and not weaned like he should have been. I normally don't mind it, except when, like he is now, he suckles my ear.

I'm not sure what it is either about my ears in particular he likes so much, but he does; in fact I've never seen him do it to anyone else. Sure he will still suckle on anyone's fingers if they offer them, but even when riding around on other people's shoulder he never goes after their ears, even when there's nothing in the way to stop him. After all I have much more hair in the way then Clint or Steve do, but that's never stopped him from burrowing through it to find his goal.

If there's one thing I miss about New York, it would be Steve. I haven't even known him for a full year yet, but he has never been anything less than a wonderful friend to me. The kitten on my shoulders is proof enough of that. He showed up at my door with a smaller and dirtier version of Jareth in a gift bag on Christmas day looking very sheepish and hoping I liked kittens. There's no other word for someone like that besides wonderful.

That's the downside to working for a paramilitary organization like S.H.I.E.L.D; not that I would do anything else given that I've spent my whole life in S.H.I.E.L.D after all, but when they tell you they're sending you somewhere the only thing you really can do is ask how long you have to pack and say goodbye, if you can say goodbye. They said go here, so I did. They also said not to call him.

Well, they didn't specify him in particular, they said I couldn't call anyone, but he would have been the only one I would have called.

I understand why I can't make phone calls. I'm stationed at a top-secret military testing facility. Anyone I need to talk to is already present on the site, and calling someone living in the civilian population poses an intelligence risk. Radio silence is just part of the job.

Still though, in a few days I will be able to talk to him. Clint told me he was pulling some strings to arrange 'A' phone call for me and wanted to know when he should set it up. When he said that I was so happy, I didn't even care that he teased me about it, he could compare me to a school girl with a crush all he wanted, I was going to be able to talk to my friend again!

I try not to take advantage of the fact that one of my best friends has a level seven clearance and the authority that comes with it, but in this case I was okay forgetting that personal rule for the time being. Honestly, if he said I had to go and have a beer with him to earn that phone call, I would probably drink a whole six-pack to myself, just to be sure.

I'm very glad he didn't think of that, or if he did, actually consider it. I have a horrible opinion of beer, and a horrible memory to justify it, both of which are his fault.

Speaking of consumable liquids, I'm reminded of another's particular preferences the closer I get to the kitchen. I usually give my adorable companion a treat of cold cream when I get home, and with each step closer I can hear his impatient excitement grow. If he wasn't on my shoulder he would probably be pacing in circles, as it stands he is already trying his best to.

He even seems to consider jumping onto the back of the plush armchair in the living room as I pass it, before it dawns on him that it has nothing to do with the kitchen. That realization seems to just make him even more anxious to do something just for the sake of doing it.

"Honestly, you'd think I never feed you..." The tone of amusement in that moment of grumbling fades off, along with my observation that his self dispensing food dish still is rather full except for a meager dip in the middle of it. The reason they trailed off for both is the actions of the kitten, his paw is now resting against the side of my nose.

"Yes?..." Doing my best to suppress a grin and speak with half my nose smooched closed, something I do for his sake even though I'm not sure it will even matter to him, I turn my head to meet most pitiful set of kitty eyes. "...Can I help you?"

His response is without fail, to be even more adorable. Removing his paw he runs his little sandpaper like tongue over the tip of my nose instead and lets out a desperate mewl.

Now I don't even bother trying not to grin, I even allow myself to laugh is I pluck him up off my shoulder and switch to cradling him in my arm. "Oh, you little goofball. I am on my way to the kitchen you know? Your cuteness is only slowing me down."

He has a such a huge appetite it's almost ridiculous. I can't seem to rationalize how something so small can consume so much and still stay tiny, though I suppose I can't talk. I sort of have that too, I can eat quite a bit and stay the same size. In fact with the rate of my metabolism burns through calories I almost have to. My female coworkers sort of despise that about me, I suppose it figures that my 'little boy' would be the same way.

He is the Captain's too in a way, and his 'dad' eats quite a bit as well. That's sort of my own personal joy, that the Captain and I adopted this kitten like he was a little human, and made a pseudo-family. It's a nice little fantasy and innocent enough, though I have never really said it out loud to anyone, since I know that Steve is incredible bashful about the idea of a 'romantic' relationship like that, and calling us a family does have that undertone to it.

It was awkward enough for him when strangers in public mistakenly assumed we were a couple, and worse when it happened on the base, because there walking away was less of an option.

Also back to the idea that Jareth is his 'little boy', he certainly doesn't share the same awkward anxiety around woman that Steve sometimes does. He is actually incredibly comfortable with the idea of women, if anything he might be too comfortable. This time my grin is a little conflicted as he squirms to adjust his place in my arms pushes his paw roughly into a certain part of my chest.  _Definitely adopted._

By the time I get to the counter itself he is squirming so much that I just let him go, his little body almost falling over himself as he rotates around to land on the surface. No sooner do all his feet connect with it he puts himself right at the edge of it and reaches for me, meowing desperately like he thinks I've forgotten about him already.

"Oh you..." I bend down more to his level and let his tan paw reach for my face again, unconcerned about the presence of his claws since he is very conscientious about them, my smart little boy. I cup his little face before blowing a puff of air in his face to tease him. It makes his nose crinkle up is he cranes his head back a little and produce a small sneeze which makes me laugh.

He looks even more annoyed when I stand upright again, and ruffle the fur on his head. "...you'll get your treat, mommy just needs a few seconds. Okay? Now don't pout." That last part is added because once again he is.

I can hear him meow more for my attention as I turn around, but this time I just ignore it. He is part Siamese, and their breed apparently loves to talk, Jareth is no exception to that trait. He even talks in his sleep sometimes, making little chirps and growls as he responds to whatever it is kittens dream of.

While he is busy pacing and whining in an effort to find the closest edge of the completely parallel counter, I am crossing to the opposite side of the kitchen pulling open the clear door of the fridge. I know right where what I want is thanks to the insulated see through glass panel there, and my hands wrap around the also glass container holding his cream.

I had to start doing that, because once before I even finished unpacking the groceries I got a phone call, and by the time I came back into the kitchen he had chewed through the wax-coated cardboard container the cream comes in, and was laying in a white puddle dripping off my counter onto the apartment's hardwood floor, purring his soaked little heart.

He also ran around the house afterward too, determined to not let me clean him up because I would be denying him the cream on his fur in the process. I ended up covered in just as much of the sticky mess as he did. As cute as the whole situation was in hindsight, I didn't ever want to repeat that situation, especially since this house has carpet, and a lot more places he could run to.

I can hear his cry gain volume as well as speed as he recognizes the jar, I can even hear his claws scramble over the laminate top with a small but especially surprised cry. I bet it's because he got so excited he almost slipped off the edge.  _He can be absolutely ridiculous about his food most of the, well all of the time really._

I continue what he perceives is some sort of cruel and unusual torture as I close the fridge and set 'the impenetrable container of spite' on the counter before I open the cupboard for a different glass container. As much as I am sure would he love to drink the whole thing in one sitting, he is just going to have to live with only getting a little in a bowl.

And once I turn to put it in his view I can tell he doesn't care about the quantity, at least not now. It will matter to him once it's gone, but for now it's presence is enough.

He's so eager for it that he is balanced on his haunches patting at the air between him and the bowl, and if I didn't expect his little paws to hook the rim once it got closer, he might have even succeeded in spilling it. Another thing I have learned about him from experience, and that too involved spilled milk but thankfully no broken glass.

Now with it in his possession at last he dives right into eating it, and defending it. I can hear small growls slipping between each lap of his scratchy tongue as he devours his treat. He doesn't like having me so close when it's something as precious as cream.

But I'm content to let him be, giving his antics a small chuckle before I turn to take care of my own appetite now that I have successfully distracted him and wont be hassled while I work.

Since my plan for the evening is just to relax I don't really feel like cooking something fresh, no matter how much I enjoy the hobby. That's fine though because I have some leftovers in the freezer.

For what is only a span of a few seconds I weigh my options, but then decide to leave the baked ziti for another day and go with the split pea soup. I can let it simmer while I take a bath, and since it's frozen it can be a long one.

But if I'm going to do that I should probably bring Jareth in the bedroom with me. He may be a very clever little kitten, but I don't trust him unattended around an active stove top, electric or not, especially with something that has bacon in it.

When my eyes go back to him I have to let out a chuckle. He of course has his face pressed into the bowl, trying to lick every morsel of cream residue out of the curve at the bottom, but that's not what makes me laugh so much as the tiny kitten glare he is giving me. It's a  _'don't even think about it'_  look if I've ever saw one.

"Relax you lil fool..." I tell him is I turn back around and take down a double boiler so I don't burn the sop at the bottom. "...you have a few minutes to figure out it's all gone, then its mommy's bath time." There's a few more seconds of silence behind me before the choppy growl purr resumes once again.  _My kitten is so strange._

* * *

_NOTE FOR THE READER:_

_I know that the MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE WIKI places the P.E.G.A.S.U.S base in the Mojave Desert and Rawlins Wyoming is in the Red Desert, but I did this research before they announced that, and found a small town suitable for my purposes. After I read that I tried to find a similarly suitable area but couldn't so since they didn't officially declare it in the movie I choose to overlook that small detail._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be part of a series, which is obvious since I listed it is such, but in terms of chronological order, this takes place as the 5th story in the series. As you read on I am sure you will come to understand why I started the series at this section of my characters life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY ONE

CHAPTER FOUR

* * *

TUESDAY, MAY 1ST 2012

2032 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D CIVILIAN SURVEILLANCE UNIT #7121482301 (STATUS: ACTIVE)

RAWLINS WYOMING

* * *

LOKI OF ASGARD

EXTRATERRESTRIAL TERRORIST

* * *

She lives here. It's not the knowledge I gained from the agent or the doctor that confirms this for me so much as the sight in front of her little mortal excuse of a 'home'.  _She has flowers growing, in a desert no less..._

Roses, ferns, daisies of varied colors, and even sun flowers. They have grown healthy and tall, their leaves full and their petals without a single blemish. Despite the arid climate of this place or its combative temperatures she has managed to make these plants thrive.

They are beautiful, these fruits of her labors, and their very existence mocks me.  _All they represent, love, respect, confidence and shelter, innocence, and pride, I thought I took that from her and she..._  What once was identifiable is a violet cape daisy is no little more than a damp mass of pulp, still bearing the impression of the inside of my fist.

I knew who she was when I saw her. She had changed of course. Her age and her appearance vastly different then when I saw her last, but I knew her face. I'd once spent years in its presence. It was so very familiar to me and so foreign all at the same time. I thought I'd stolen that expression from her, I thought she would never wear it again.

 _I mourned her..._  It was by my own youthful ignorance that I lost her, I will own to that mistake without shame because that's what it was, a grave mistake. I misjudged the situation, and it cost both of us greatly.  _...I thought her dead, and she dared to stand before me with a smile_!

"Bring her to me now." The agent that had been standing in quiet obedience during my moment of nostalgic study does as he is told with little fanfare, the only sound created by him that breaks the night is a respectful "Sir" and the whispering grate of metal teeth rotating into place.

She may deserve a better reunion than the one I am offering her, but this is the one she will receive. I do not have the time or the patience to convince her to come willingly. The people she so foolishly chose to offer her allegiance to will not allow it of me.

* * *

TUESDAY, MAY 1ST 2012

2038 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D CIVILIAN SURVEILLANCE UNIT #7121482301 (STATUS: ACTIVE)

RAWLINS WYOMING

* * *

NORA ELAINE

* * *

_Oh god. I look pruney._  That's my major observation now that I finished towelling off and notice my hands. The skin on my fingers is pasty and wrinkly looking, and I don't like it. But at the same time it's nice that that's my biggest issue for the rest of night, the level of water content in my skin.

Once I was in the hot water, which honestly might have been too hot since I still look a little pink, and had my music going I sort of lost track of time. I wasn't even sure how long I had been in there until I got out and decided to check the clock.

It, like every other clock in my house is set to AM and PM, unlike the military time I'm used to, but seeing is I am just supposed to be a civilian I have to play the part which is why my clock now frustratingly reads 8:38 pm instead of the 7:02 pm it did when I dipped my toes into the water.

I'm really glad now I choose to simmer the soup, and that it started out frozen. It probably wasn't the most responsible decision I ever made, to just leave the stove on unattended like that for ALMOST TWO HOURS. If I burned down the house, that Clint picked for me no less, I'd never get to have another one, and I really don't want to go back to base housing. I've gotten to used to being able to have stuff, I don't think I could stand it.

"Okay little man. Surrender the pajamas." I planned on leaving him in my bedroom to take his after snack nap while I soaked away the day in the guest bathroom since it had the only tub in the house. My own bathroom has a walk in shower in its place. Apparently I'd misjudged and I hadn't given him enough 'in my presence time' which meant he was practically clawing through my door and crying.

So of course I let him join me in the bathroom, and for the time being, take over my towel. But when I needed it to dry off, and forced his surrender, my adorable brat decided that the stack of clothes I planned to put on would be a worthy substitute, and curled up on those too.

Unfortunately for him I don't feel like walking around naked, even though I've been assured that this house has no internal visual surveillance, the only video surveillance is set to watch the perimeter and the outer walls.

At the base privacy was an issue for obvious safety reasons. As well as in my first apartment, excluding the bathrooms of course because that was actually part of S.H.I.E.L.D public housing program for visiting government officials.

Still despite that knowledge I guess I just developed the habit of not doing it. That and the fact that I actually prefer the feeling of some kind of tactile sensation against my skin. Nudity, even in private just makes me feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. Having something cover my skin just makes me feel secure.

He wasn't as asleep as he was when I reclaimed my towel from him, but still grumbles in protest as I once again lift him like a rag doll and up take away his comfortable spot. I make the effort to appease him by offering the towel back, but after a moment of study he seems to find it too damp for his taste, and only gives me one of his annoyed looks beyond his half asleep eyelids.

Once I have the indigo cat night-shirt on and shorts I decide it's time to leave the steamy bathroom at last, and of course that includes me deciding it's time for him to exit with me. At first he is upset with the fact that I once again am moving him, but it's quickly forgotten and forgiven since my arms are warmer than the floor, not to mention softer.

The only thing I have left to do before I take the doorknob in hand is turn off my radio. I have a few of them around the house. Ever since a certain unplanned and traumatic encounter with Tony Stark in early 2010 I've been getting a new 'more advanced than it should be 'Sirius' radio at odd intervals. Each comes without a sender address, but since the first came loaded with French music it's pretty clear who their from. If they weren't I doubt S.H.I.E.L.D would make me keep turning them in for unwanted AI checks and debugging.

I've also been assured that their existence has nothing to do with any of Clint's personal brand of influence. I'm still a little skeptical about that though, because I remember he was borderline livid about the situation when it happened, and made quite a few promises regarding the state of Mr. Stark's face. Enough so that S.H.I.E.L.D had to officially order him to not touch Tony Stark, and that they redefined projectiles is an extension of himself, so there would be no shooting him either.

Speaking of Clint I should probably decide what I plan to make tomorrow, that way if I have to pick up anything from the store I'll have time after work.

Knowing Clint he'll probably prefer something spicy because he's insane; that's another mystery I haven't figured out, nor do I want to. My one experience with it was enough.  _Maybe I can find something to use those wasabi peas he left here, since I'm never going to eat them._  I can just make a separate non spicy version of whatever I cook for myself.

That was the plan. Exit the bathroom, go back down the hall and through the living room, then cut through the kitchen to my little office/laundry area off of the garage and look up a recipe online with wasabi peas in it. It was the plan until I came around the corner and stopped short, letting out a startled gasp because there was a man standing in my house!

I calmed considerably in the next fraction of a second when I recognize who the silhouette belonged to. It's Clint.

That answers the who part, but the why is still very much unexplained. Clint's shift isn't due to end for three more hours, and I've never known him to leave early. I don't think he is even allowed to given what his job is. He also always calls first if I'm not expecting him, and generally if I don't answer he assumes the answer is not today. So I can only assume that if he is here it's because something is wrong. "Clint?"

His response just makes situation even more confusing. "You're not dressed." He doesn't even say it to me really, he has his back facing away from me, looking at something outside the window. He even has his fingers pressed against the glass like that might help him see it somehow.

"Uh, well I..." My words cut off for a second as I feel Jareth's muscles start to stiffen beneath his skin, and even the beginnings of a growl I can't quite hear yet is vibrating out of him.  _Is he scared? He's never been afraid of Clint?_  "...I didn't know you were coming."

"Neither did I." This time he turns around, and some of the confusion about his strange behavior evaporates, but it's immediately replaced with fear.  _Oh god, his eyes!_  Clint has beautiful eyes, I actually love the color of them, they remind me a little of the sea, they're so many little specks of different colors meshed into one. But I'm not seeing Clint's eyes now, I'm seeing irritated eyelids, and a blue glowing light.

Worse than the observation about the state of his eyes is the fact that I know that glow. I see it every time I visit him in the lab, set beyond the few feet I'm allowed to enter.  _His eyes look like the cube!_

"Clint, what happened to you?" Concern had me taking a step forward, but then I stopped. Reason one was the raising growl that emanated from my arms is I moved closer, and reason two was the realization that Clint might be 'radioactive' for lack of a better term. His eyes are glowing with the energy of the Tesseract, this only makes my worry grow for him even greater.  _What if it's hurting him?_

He doesn't answer me though, the sound of a passing car and its headlights catch his attention. It catches mine as well, but for a different and entirely unpleasant reason. My front door is closed, but the light came through anyways. There are a series of holes where my doorknob should be.  _He...those are…Oh my god those are bullet holes! He put bullet holes in my door?!_

I found the situation strange and somewhat unsettling before, but now I'm just scared. His demand does not make it any better. "Let's go."

It's probably not the best idea to say no to someone who you just realized shot out your door, but I do, because, well  _he shot out my door!_  "N-No." His expression pretty much confirms for me that it was a very bad idea, but I'm still fairly confident that he won't hurt me. He just isn't thinking straight from whatever the energy did to him, it's still Clint though, he's still my 'big brother'.

But even with that reassurance I find myself backing away from his advance. I've always known people found Clint frightening, but he never showed that side to me so I never really understood why before. I understand why now.

"I-I don't know what's going on..." As I back around the corner I free my hands for the next part, switching my hold on my very upset kitten to one, and letting him drop carefully to the floor. I'm a little relieved that even though he continues to growl and hiss he shows the sense to stay away from Clint while he is like this. "...but I'll just call the b-base and well figure this out o-okay?"

My hand doesn't even make it two inches toward the phone before he gives it a reason to stop. "Phone's dead Nora." He says it with a smirk as my eyes shoot to his. "The whole systems down. You didn't think I'd actually let you call for help did you?" Now my hands are finally giving in to that urge to start trembling uncontrollably.

This time he doesn't pursue my retreat, he instead leans against the corner wall casually, almost like this whole situation is boring to him. "Now we're short on time so I need you to be a good girl and come with...oh." The bored look in his eyes vanishes and I think I almost wish it would come back.

I made it all the way through the living room, and to the little dining room area set behind my couch before I did something to warrant his full attention, I let my fingers find a weapon. Though in the back of my mind I'm pretty much aware that it wouldn't matter what I held, it wouldn't do me any good, not against Clint.

All the same I feel a little safer having even just this letter opener in my hand. Safer, and yet disgusted.  _It's Clint. I'd never want to hurt Clint, I don't want to hurt Clint!_  Even just holding this thing feels like a terrible betrayal, but I can't put it down because my hand literally won't let me.

His already bright eyes light up even more. I know that look, and normally I like that look only now it's skewed by the situation and it scares me. It's the same look he usually wears when S.H.I.E.L.D finally manufactures one of his new designs, turning it into a functioning arrow-head for him to play with that he can't wait to field test. That's the look he has now as he pushes out of the lean and to an upright position, he looks eager and excited, to see what I'll do. He actually looks glad, like he was hoping for this.

"Well now..." He only pauses to take the cuff of his glove between the opposite fingers and yank it off, completely ignoring my whimpered "Please Clint, you're sick or something, this isn't you..." as he finishes removing it and tosses it haphazardly to the floor before moving right on to the next is he continues his rather unsettling sentence. "Never thought I'd see 'that'..."

"It's me Clint, your 'sister'..." The other glove hits one of the vases on the table by the wall and makes it shatter against the floor. It makes me jump with a small yelp, but he doesn't even blink. I can barely take my eyes off his hands, and I'm trying to because I know I should be watching all of him instead of just part, but I can't.  _Why would he do that? He knows?!_  "...please, you know me!" The pleading in my voice only makes him smirk.  _He thinks this is funny?!_

Then the smirk is gone, everything light and casual about his demeanor shifts, going from scary to scarier as his expression down to his posture becomes cold and lethal looking. "I can do a lot with 'alive', so make a move."

I made a move. I ran. It was a stupid move, but an all honesty I think any move I would have made would count as stupid in a situation like this. Running from a man trained to kill and not thinking straight, or go with him, either sounds like a terrible idea no matter how you spin it. So I choose run on the hopes that I could make it outside. He said he took out the whole security system, so I know the panic button in the kitchen is out of the question but if I can make it far enough I might be able to draw attention from the neighbors, and S.H.I.E.L.D when they got here.

They would to get here sooner to later, if Clint was here, and in this condition they'd send someone to contain him. They have to, Clint is dangerous like this and there's no way I can handle him on my own. Even the thought that I could try to contain him is insane.  _Someone has to be coming!_

The coffee table and couch between us didn't do a thing to slow him down, in fact I think he used the table as a boost to clear the back of the couch because I heard his feet land heavily back on the ground a half a second before my hair decided to go the opposite direction and take my head with it.

The breath that would have turned into a scream from the pain that caused doesn't even get the chance to come out. The next thing I know I've all but been thrown backwards, and my spine slams into the handle of my inset wall oven. Before my body can even bounce back forward from the momentum of hitting a fixed structure like that, his is pressed against me, and his forearm is pushing against my throat.

A plan, if I even had one besides escaping him, loses all precedence in light of the fact that I can't breath!

 _I'm going to die! He's going to kill me!_  And I don't even know why this is happening! I saw him only hours ago, and he was laughing with me. Now he is suffocating me in my kitchen and he looks ecstatic about it.

"Cli..." I managed to gain a fraction of an inch of space between his arm and my throat somehow. I'm not even sure how I managed to though because it's always been clear he is much stronger than me but it becomes very clear that the tiny breath and the single syllable I got out were more than he wanted me to.

He pulls the pressure forward, which would have been a relief if he didn't use the space as leverage to slam me back with even greater force. This time throwing a punch into my stomach and using the height and strength difference he has over me to lift me off the floor by my throat.

The combined effect of each of those attacks is quickly taking its toll as I feel myself blacking out from the dizzying sensation is my head slammed against the thick glass of the oven door, and his fist driving out the oxygen I already didn't have enough of to spare, as well is the pressure he is keeping on my throat cutting off the blood to reach my brain. All of this is going to make me pass out in a matter of seconds if I don't do something other than claw at his arms and kick my feet.

It's the sight of a needle that makes me react.

I didn't realize what I was seeing for a second, the desperation and dots dancing in my vision made it seem unimportant. I only had the vague awareness he held something small in his other hand, and that he took the end of it in his teeth.

Then my mind processed what my eyes saw. It was a syringe, and he was uncapping it.

If it was a conscious decision I'm not really sure, all I know is by the time I knew I was thinking it I already had the handle in my hand, and a second later it was him who cried out in pain, jerking back is I slammed a hot metal pot, and the equally hot split pea soup against the side of his skull.

I didn't stop to think about the fact that I may have just given a man who I consider a family member terrible burns to his face and a concussion. I didn't stop to think about the fact that my hand too felt like it was on fire because the part of the handle I grabbed onto was metal. All I cared about as my knees hit the floor was that I could breathe, I could draw air into my lungs again and that I had to get far away from him!

I couldn't get the traction I wanted on a tile floor covered in spilled soup but that didn't stop me. I just crawled over it, not paying any attention to the fact that it still held enough heat to scald my exposed skin in the process.

Desperation has a way of distracting someone from certain details. It wasn't until I reached the carpet of the living room and started to stand again I realized there was blood running down my neck, and I couldn't feel what it was leaking out of. The needle must have found its mark, and whatever was in it was already making my skin numb.

That's all I had time to process before a weighted forced collided with my waist and sent both of us crashing into the heavy armchair by the couch.

The whiplash of it made my face slam into the floor, stealing my ability to react for a few seconds and giving him the chance to get me in the position he wants me. By the time my muscles start considering doing what I wanted of them he has rolled me onto my back and moved to straddle my waist.

"N...!" I don't even get the full two letter word out before one of his hands stops trying to wrestle mine under control and opts for punching me in the side of the face to shut me up. After the stunning force succeeding in that he makes sure I won't try again, and clamps his other hand down whether viciously on my mouth.

He doesn't even bother trying to return to restraining my hands. What he does is worse, and more effective. I didn't see him uncap it but a second later his hand on my mouth wrenches my head to turn to the side right before I felt something break the skin again, and he wasn't gentle about it. I felt the needle hit bone and bow under the pressure, then I felt the needle snap!

This time I get out a yell. The pain of the needle gouging into my bone and the contents it carried forced to pool in the muscle instead of flowing through my blood was too much. Even his hand covering my mouth couldn't smother the sound completely, then a second later it stopped trying.

Clint's hand left my mouth, along with the rest of him. He was upright and swaying on his feet, yelling in pain and swearing as he tried to frantically reach something on his back! I realized just what it was when he turned a little in his panic to revealed a tan tail!  _Jareth?!_

I'd forgotten about my kitten, not that anyone could blame me for that. I simply didn't think he was in immediate danger, unlike myself, and I doubt Clint was even thinking about him at all. But he must have stayed in the room the whole time, seeing what was happening to his 'mom', and once Clint got down on his level and made me cry in pain, he attacked him.  _Clint's gonna kill him if I don't do something!_

I didn't see myself move, or have any consciousness of the fact I did. I just remember trying to get up again and failing when everything turning into a sea of disorienting black spots, but then it cleared and I was next to my coffee table.

Being thrown into the armchair must knocked it a good four feet to the side and opened up a path to the table. This wasn't a particularly conscious decision, all I knew was something I cared about was in terrible danger, and I had something heavy in reach of my hands that I could solve the problem with.

I don't know how I did it, I couldn't even feel my fingers at this point, whatever he injected me had managed to spread that far already but I had my hands on the wrought iron legs of that table and I had it moving.

It was swinging over the top of the remaining arm chairs, the weight of its momentum carrying it more than my strength or will and half a second after he threw something with a resounding crash into the bookshelf behind me, it collided into his chest with its own impact sound.

He managed to get his arms up a little to shield himself from the worst of it, but even prepared for it Clint is not immune to the laws of physics. Being struck by a fast-moving piece of metal, wood, and glass that weighed at least forty pounds was enough to knock him off-balance and send him crashing into the dining room set behind him.

I didn't let myself watch the rest, the second my hands lost their grip of the table my own momentum from swinging it kept me spinning around, making me stumble back to the floor even dizzier than before. But I still had awareness of one important thing, the only thing Clint would have thrown like that was my kitten!

He hurt my kitten. He knew I loved Jareth, he knew how important my kitten was to me, he even liked Jareth too, and Jareth liked him but still he grabbed him and threw him like a baseball straight into my bookshelf. He even looked happy went the books started to avalanche onto his little body. If I had time to feel sorry for attacking Clint that smile would have stopped me.

This time the crawling has more to do with the fact that really I can't stand, than that I don't have time to try. I can still feel my legs, the texture of the carpet is pretty clear against the skin of my burnt knees, but I can also feel my muscles weakening. It's like that sensation you get if your foot falls asleep, pins and needles and cold traveling through the tissues, and moving your body feels harder, like you're trying to move through thick mud.

That's what my whole body is doing, and I bet if it weren't for the massive amount of adrenaline pumping through my blood right along with it I wouldn't even be conscious now.

 _I'm going to die._  It's a realization that isn't a realization. I know it, but at the same time it somehow hasn't sunken in as a fact. It's just the words of a sentence. I'm going to pass out soon, and S.H.I.E.L.D isn't here yet because my other useless panic button is in my bedroom, and Clint's going to kill me because I hit him, twice, and the energy is making him crazy.

That's how it's going to happen. S.H.I.E.L.D will get here too late, and I'll already be dead, but not my kitten. I can't do anything else but at least I'm going to save my kitten! That's all I care about as I knock books out-of-the-way with numb useless hands. My fingers don't even want to move anymore, and I can't keep the dots from advancing in from the corners of my sight, but I need to dig my kitten out!

My face suddenly rockets forward against my will. There is a press on the back of my skull, and a sharp tension at the roots of my hair again before my temple is slammed into one of my amethyst bookends, the uneven edges of its surface cutting stripes into my brow.

I didn't feel him jerk me back up by my hair, but I knew he was, and I knew it was him. I only had this vague realization I was moving, because the scenery was moving. I had been looking at a pile of books now I was looking at the ceiling and then his furious, slightly scorched face. I didn't get my kitten out...

Then the daze went away, driven out of me by a white-hot pain I had never felt before but still understood. I'd been stabbed!  _HE, my 'brother' just put his knife in my thigh!_  I couldn't see it, except for the very tip of its handle peeking out from behind the bulk of his form, but it just stuck there, buried in my muscles as they twitched around it, confused by the presence of this cold agony is it pinned me to the floor.

I screamed but he only let me get out the a single note of it before both his hands clamped down over my mouth again, trying to smother the sound and crush my jaw in the same move.

The scream seemed to take me with it. I felt myself sinking into myself, that's the best way I can describe it. Everything was still there, just as close and far away as I left it, but it was farther away at the same time. I was farther away and he didn't like that.

I think he had been talking to me. I recognized that his mouth was moving but couldn't hear anything. Then the pain came back, I think he shifted one of his hands and was twisting the knife. All I know is that whatever he was doing it sent waves of agonizing white heat through my nerves and made me scream again into the barrier of his hand.

 _Why wouldn't he just let me faint? He did this to me, isn't that what he wanted? So why?_  There were words again in my ears. I knew they were words, but my foggy mind still only understood them as sounds. My ability to translate them into something of meaning was gone but I didn't need that to understand the feel of his tongue on my skin.

I knew why he wouldn't let me faint now, I didn't want to know why!

 _Not that! Please, no! Not that!_  I was wrong! This isn't Clint! This isn't my brother! It wouldn't matter what happened to him. My brother would never do this, he would never go this far no matter how out of control he was.  _This isn't my Clint! My Clint knows!_

I can't move anymore! Even if I didn't have his weight or hands holding me down I wouldn't be able to move, the drugs have conquered my muscles. I can barely even squirm as I 'don't' see him tear at my shirt with his free hand. All I can do is cry and scream inside as everything about me goes away and leaves me to this horrible end. All I can do is pray for someone who isn't here to save me! I didn't think I needed him here, I left him in New York because I was supposed to be safe here!  _I was supposed to call him..._

_Green? I can see green? When was green... so cold...?_

* * *

TUESDAY, MAY 1ST 2012

2041 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D CIVILIAN SURVEILLANCE UNIT #7121482301 (STATUS: ACTIVE)

RAWLINS WYOMING

* * *

LOKI OF ASGARD

* * *

I had every intention of letting that agent give her a good reason to fear him if she did not choose to follow him out of that building on her own, but even I can tell the difference between a scream of simple fright and the scream born with a purpose.

I gave him leave to terrorize her while I dealt with the intrusion of her neighboring surveillance team, but not to do that!

I found him on top of her, his hand wrapped around the ruined cloth that once had been the collar of her blouse with his blade still sticking from her flesh is she lay still and quiet beneath him covered in her own blood.

Had his skills and knowledge been a little less useful to me I would have done more than haul him up by the sturdy material of his jacket and slam him into the wall so hard the structure of it displayed its weakness from the force I applied! I was careful not to jar his head too much but even though I only used one hand it still produced a radiating network of fine originating from a point hidden behind his shoulder.

But when I looked down at her and truly took in her condition the seconds it would have taken to kill him paled against the concern that these wounds would kill her. There was already a small but quickly spreading pool of blood forming beneath her impaled thigh. It did not appear that he struck an artery with that assault, but even I could succumb to the blood loss of such a wound if it was left unattended for too long.

Releasing my hold on his jacket I let his feet meet the floor again, half impressed and disappointed that he showed the sense to not resist me. I would have very much enjoyed being given a reason to change my mind about the continuing state of his mortality.

 _After what he did to her I just might anyways._  "Get out." I give him that order just so I do not waste a valuable tool in an act of rage.

 _She is still somewhat conscious..._  That much is clear from the small whimper that leaves her as my fingers touch her flushed skin, seeking out a pulse. _...and afraid._

I do not fault her for that. She may have enough consciousness left to realize she is not alone, but I doubt it extends to very much beyond that. She can not even tell that I am someone different then the man who just hurt her even though her eyes are still open. I can see the sight of her irises are peaking between half closed lids, but they hold no sign of awareness in them.

It is probably better this way, that she is not aware. I have even less time now to waste then when we arrived for her. Even an organization as insignificant as S.H.I.E.L.D should have the sense to pursue me, and try to prevent me from taking her from them.

She is almost hot to my touch as I slip my arms beneath her back, first only to shift her gently into a seated position and then supporting her weight against a bent knee. Her clothes are absolutely soaked with blood, and the desert night is cold.  _And so am I._

I can already feel her frail body shivering from my touch alone. I will not risk making her precarious state even worse from something so insignificant is the cold night air. She is worth the brief loss of my jacket, she deserves at least that much.

She deserves some measure of peace too. That sentiment is why I brush my fingers over her eyelids and close them completely. She does not need to see where we are going, nor does she need anything to distract her mind from its induced slumber. The trip is going to be a long one, and not at all comfortable in her condition.

 _It also can not begin until this damnable blade is removed!_  "Forgive me little one..." The words are spoken in a whisper even though she has no chance of truly hearing them. Even when I grip the hilt of the dagger and remove it her reaction is disturbing, in the pronounced lack of it. She only lets out a shuddering breath is I pull the serrated teeth from her flesh.

 _Perhaps their drugs are stronger than I anticipated. Perhaps she will not feel this agony_  "...but I am afraid this will hurt. I will make it quick I promise you that."  _Or perhaps not._  Even unconscious, she cries out at the press of my blue skin into hers and I hear the small sound of another life form crying with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be part of a series, which is obvious since I listed it is such, but in terms of chronological order, this takes place as the 5th story in the series. As you read on I am sure you will come to understand why I started the series at this section of my characters life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY ONE

CHAPTER FIVE

* * *

TUESDAY, MAY 1ST 2012

2045 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D CIVILIAN SURVEILLANCE UNIT #7121482301 (STATUS: COMPROMISED)

RAWLINS WYOMING

* * *

S.H.I.E.L.D AGENT, LEVEL SIX

SUPERVISING OFFICER

* * *

It wasn't a stretch of the imagination to assume the situation was going to be bad even though we only just arrived on the scene if there were already civilians circling her house.

We came in vehicles because we couldn't fit enough men to possibly subdue Agent Barton and the Terrorist in a helicopter if we encountered them. then we were using the remaining ones to provide spotlights to help in the search for survivors. So we sped across the desert in Humvees to this little town, trying to turn an hour-long trip into a half hour one, but even arriving forty-five minutes after the base was destroyed it was clear we weren't quick enough.

Now our job is containing the situation, not collecting a target. We were sent to retrieve a level one agent by the name of Nora Elaine, and her son Jareth. Apparently Miss Elaine despite her very low clearance level has a retrieval priority level six.  _Which means unless she is hiding in a cupboard or wandering out there in the sand somewhere, I'm getting demoted._

I don't even consider the possibility that maybe she wasn't home to begin with because we already knew she was. Level one or not being a S.H.I.E.L.D agent her house was outfitted with a well hidden security system; When she used her key, the scanner built into her doorknob read the microchip in it and checked her fingerprints, It didn't record her leaving either before something shut all of it off.

And by something, I mean whatever hit this thing was something the system didn't even recognize. The last thing we got was the computer trying to identify the appearance of a strange energy anomaly in the area, and then its circuits burned. It may not have figured it out, but we were sent from the P.E.G.A.S.U.S base, so we knew what it was.

We just don't know why they would come here, for a level one who should be a level six, because while we had to come get her, we didn't get to know anything else.

But clearance level and impending demotion or not, I still have a job to do here, and so do the rest of the men in the four SUV's following us. To begin with we need to secure the scene and deal with these people, which quite honestly is one of the parts of my job I like the least.

Just like clockwork, the first accusation of this being unconstitutional comes right on the heels of the first phone being confiscated. They also aren't please when one of the agents dressed like local law enforcement starts putting handcuffs on a young man who was braver than the rest and made it as far as the broken door frame.

The rest of the agents just divide themselves up into groups without much discussion, we've all done this enough to know what we have to do. Confiscate the evidence, gather information from witnesses, see what we can retrieve from the security system, clear the house, then clean the scene.

The only thing out of the ordinary that happens is when the agents clearing the house come back out, minus a woman or child in their midst, but in possession of what looks like two bloody syringes and a rather distinguishable knife. Its standard issue to members in the disposal units, and it's bloody too.

 _Fuck._  She isn't here, and while the absence of a body and the sight of the syringes means she is probably still alive wherever she is, it's certain she is injured too. Though I still don't know why Barton would even come for these people, even if their safety counted is a level six priority she shouldn't be that important. His own clearance actually ranked level six. She wouldn't know anything he didn't.

I also don't have any knowledge about the woman myself to base a guess on, before today I never even heard her name.

One of the three agents that went in separates himself from his team on the way out and heads my way, no doubt to tell me of what observations I can't make with just my eyes. "There's no sign of her sir, but the evidence of forced entry and a struggle is pretty clear. He used propofol on her, she definitely didn't go with him willingly."

"What about the boy?" The question should have been self-explanatory, especially since I know he looked at the mission itinerary too, he was in the vehicle with me. So his look of confusion not only confuses me but also annoys. "Her son Agent. What's the status of the boy? Jareth Elaine?"

"Sir, Agent Elaine doesn't have a son. 'Jareth' is her kitten."  _A kitten? A CAT?!_  The file had him ranked level one as well, and while I thought it strange for an infant to get a rank I could rationalize if he was a child of a S.H.I.E.L.D agent he would warrant a certain priority in an emergency, BUT A GODDAMN CAT?! "He was a gift from Captain America sir."

 _Well that actually explains everything._  No wonder she was so important. Suddenly getting demoted doesn't sound so bad, I know what I'm going to get is worse.  _I just let a terrorist get away with Captain America's girlfriend and her cat._

"Sir." Another agent had walked up mid report, and with his first word my mood plummets further. even though his words were fairly innocuous, I just don't want anymore bad news. "I think we have another problem." he adds calmly is he indicates with his eyes for me to look at the neighbor's house.

 _And I apparently have a body count too._  They are bringing sealed sample kits and a body bag out of the neighbor's house.  _Coulson is going to ruin me, I think Ciudad Juarez is supposed to be nice this time of year._

* * *

TUESDAY, MAY 1ST 2012

2342 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D HEADQUARTERS, THE TRISKELION

WASHINGTON D.C.

* * *

PHILLIP COULSON

RECENTLY PROMOTED S.H.I.E.L.D FIELD AGENT, LEVEL SEVEN

* * *

After hanging up with one agent that called with bad news and an unexpected body count, who I quickly informed that once and only after we saved the world would be clearing out his office and looking for a new job at the local dairy queen, I went right into the process of making another phone call, and after that I made another.

I haven't stopped making phone calls the entire three and a half hour flight to D.C. Even after the flight was over I was still making calls, like the one I made to a certain red-head in Komsomolsk-on-amur or another I supervised to the opinionated young scientist operating out of an old garage in New Mexico offering her a paid vacation to the other side of the world. There's no time for me to stop, no time for any of us.

We are requisitioning the satellite feeds from the NWS, and reviewing every second of footage from toll booths and traffic cams on the continent in a radiating circumference from the 'former' P.E.G.A.S.U.S site.

With a threat like this we are reaching out to everyone we can. We are talking to the FBI, the CIA, the FAA, and the NSA. We have had the Army, the Navy and the Marines, is well is the Air Force and the various National Guard branches on the line. Were even going down to the level of state and local law enforcement. It isn't even a stretch to say that eventually we will start talking to traffic cops and mall security if that's what it takes.

We are even pulling missions at this point. Any agent operating within a five state radius has been given the order to abandon their mission and drop their cover in the quickest way possible that doesn't involve them getting themselves killed. The same is going for any techs or particularly skilled civilians in the area. We don't want Loki to acquire any more followers than he already has.

And another step to closing the net is why I'm here in Washington. We need to get our authority off the ground. We already got the president to board air-force one, that was one of the first phones calls we made, the prime minister of Canada, and the Mexican one is well is all the South American Presidents were told to do the same.

We don't know what Loki's plan is, but kidnapping or brainwashing the leader of a country can't be ruled out and is the last thing we want to happen. We are contacting the leaders of the other countries around the world with the same advice, but those three areas got priority being part of our continent.

The Council members too are in the air. They have the authority to command substantial military force and we don't need another stolen weapon to worry about.

Now my job is to start the launching of the Helicarrier from the hangar. Fury already cleared its use with the Council, so I don't have to worry about that. Apparently the potentially apocalyptic threat level made them forget their previous refusal to let us fly this, on the poor excuse that its use wouldn't be cost efficient or serve a practical purpose.

S.H.I.E.L.D is willing to do everything possible to neutralize a problem, and so am I. At least in theory. There is still one phone call I haven't made, because I am hoping by God that they find her out there, scared and cold in the desert somewhere. There is still time, it might happen. I do not want to make a call that will put his friend in danger, I know how much she means to him.

_If comes down to a question of my world versus her life. I'm sorry Captain but I won't choose her life._

* * *

_NOTES FOR THE READERS:_

_Ciudad Juarez is listed is one of the most violent and dangerous places on the planet._

_Komsomolsk-on-amur is a city in Russia. I tried to find somewhere with a SILINSKY PLAZA and I couldn't, but this city has SILINSKY park, so i settled for that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be part of a series, which is obvious since I listed it is such, but in terms of chronological order, this takes place as the 5th story in the series. As you read on I am sure you will come to understand why I started the series at this section of my characters life.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO

CHAPTER SIX

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

0500 HOURS

210 STANHOPE ST 11237

BROOKLYN NEW YORK

* * *

 STEVE ROGERS

CITIZEN OF SENIORITY

* * *

I woke up late, missing the last vestige of the dawn is the red faded into the gray that would claim the sky for the rest of the day, or what passes for dawn in a city like Brooklyn. which is more along the lines of a brief window of time to see red strips peek through the cracks of tall buildings and cramped alleys.

But it wasn't the red of the sky I was hoping to see when I woke up anyways. It was the red on my answering machine.

When I got up I didn't bother to do any of my normal morning routine of washing up, getting dressed and making the bed before I even left the room. Instead I just let the sheets pool where they wanted to on the mattress and padded across the floor still in my pajamas is I looked into the living room.

Only to find myself disappointed by what I didn’t see. The block like neon red digits on the machine still read 00.  _Nora didn't call me._

 _I really have no right to feel this way._  If I stopped to think about it logically I should actually be glad that she didn't call, because I would hate the idea that she went out of her way to get special permission to call me and only got as far as my answering machine.  _A message she helped me figure out how to program at that._

Still, emotions don't always find themselves in agreement with logic, and mine are no exception. The fact that she hasn't called yet stings a little, spreading its small poisonous barbs like a cancer and making me feel betrayed by the lack of a red number.

I know she hasn't betrayed me though. In fact, she can't because she never made a promise of a particular day, she simply swore she would try to call me if she could, because she knew May was a really hard month for me. Just because she hasn't called yet doesn't mean she won't.

 _My doubt really does her a great disservice._  I've never known her to not do exactly what she says she will. She is a very determined young lady.

Calling her something is simple is determined is probably a disservice to her is well. I didn't know it right away, it took me almost a month to truly grasp it, but Nora just might be one of the strongest people I know.

You can't see it by just looking at her five foot three slight frames, but she has so much courage in her. I can't imagine doing what she's been able to do, and still come out of it smiling and with sanity. To spend every second of everyday just trying to make it through the day without an incident.

And yet when I met her she took one look at the blood dripping from my knuckles and didn't hesitate to take the time out of her own day to take care of me, a man she never met, and bandage my wounds.

I only thought she was unusual then, and perhaps an illusion thought up in a bout of insanity, because why else would there be a young woman walking around a government facility in bare feet with holes in her jeans?

She didn't even really speak to me in that encounter, which later I figured out was because she was too busy concentrating on keeping herself calm and her hands steady.

It was April 24th and it had been a week since I woke up in that fake hospital room and ran out into an impossible version of Time Square.  _A week since I found out I slept through time._

I'd been beating I don't know how many sandbags into oblivion at that point, each one adding to the sand dune I was trying to make on the gym floor. I didn't really care about it until someone else could see it too, I just wanted to beat the ability to think out of me one punch at a time.

“ _You're a hero Captain. It will get better with time. So how are you adjusting sir? If you need any help figuring it out let me know sir. Good to have you back Captain, the world could use a man like you. Give it time Captain, you'll get used to it.”_  Everybody knew just what to say, and none of it meant anything to me!

I thought I was giving up my life for my country, for every country, and I was okay with that decision. I made it, understanding and accepting the consequences. I was at peace with dying for the sake of freedom. Only I didn’t die, and my sacrifice was all but made meaningless by that fact, and now it just seems like everybody expects me to get right back into the boots of Captain America and start serving and sacrificing for a country I don't even recognize anymore!

And I punched another hole in another sandbag right then. Only I no longer cared about the leaking bag because is it swayed pathetically on its chain with half the canvas dragging on the floor. All I was concerned with was the woman standing in the half-open door way, looking at me.

I heard her gasp softly right is my fist defeated the structural integrity of the canvas, again, and I suddenly felt like a fool.

She had probably been standing there for a minute, just watching Captain America acting rather unheroic and destroying government property instead of being the shining figure she came to see, so assuming that was what she was there about I promised to clean it up, and that was when she did the strangest thing. She shook her head and smiled softly.

That’s when I really looked at her, and realized how out-of-place she was in that doorway. Everyone here was either dressed in a suit, or combat gear but she was wearing a striped purple poncho on her shoulders despite it being May and carrying a pair of fur-lined moccasins in her hands as she walked into that supply closet, with the sort of purposefulness that suggested she knew right where she was going, and then came back out with a first aid kit in her glove covered hands.

When I understood her intentions I told her she didn't have to, assuming she felt some sort of obligation to help an old war hero, but she just smiled as she sat down and said “I know”, then she removed and folded up her poncho on the seat beside her and held out her hand to me.

She was gentle and meticulous and so unbelievably steady as she removed the bloodstained cotton from my knuckles and cleaned out the blood thickened sand. She even set my dislocated pinky back in place, and she did all of this with those purple opera gloves on. When I asked she'd whether take them off to keep them from getting bloody she just smiled once more like she didn't care they were being ruined.

She wrapped my knuckles back up, and when the strength of the tape didn't seem to satisfy her she pulled the bobby pins out of her short hair and wove those through the weave of the cloth like it was no big deal! Then she simply stood up, and collecting her stuff started to walk out the door.

If it wasn't for my bewildered question of 'why' she probably would have kept going. Instead when she heard me she turned back, offering me one more of those genuinely glowing smiles of hers and said “sometimes the words aren't good enough.”

she wasn't there to tell me every thing would be okay, or to thank me for saving the world, or for any reason at all I realized. She hadn't even been looking for me, just found me by accident and decided to bandage my knuckles, because having someone else do it meant it would be done better.

In fact when I realized she didn't put away the first kit I also realized she didn't just think I  _might_ , she knew I  _would_  and she  _wanted_  me to go right back to beating my knuckles bloody and ruin her good work if that’s what it took to make me feel better.

That revelation left me so stunned for a second that by the time I realized I had no idea who she was, or what her name was she was already gone and all my searching to thank her couldn’t find her.

It took me nine days to find her again, and in that time I half convinced myself I had really imagined her, this strangely dressed pixie like woman on a government base with perfect timing and insight into exactly what I needed. If if wasn't for the bobby-pins is solid proof in my hand and the roundabout response I got every time I asked about the woman with the purple gloves I might have believed it too.  _But nobody tries to avoid talking about someone who doesn’t exist._

I found her by accident too, because I wasn't looking at the time. I'd actually given up for a while, and went to the cafeteria to eat in between the lunch and dinner rushes so I could have a little privacy from my fans. So naturally there she was, just sitting on a bench Indian style with her moccasins beneath her chair where her feet should be, and that poncho on her shoulders as she twirled a pencil absently.

Our friendship started over blood and bobby-pins, and well that sounds like an odd and a bit disturbing basis for a friendship, she always made it look so effortless, and has become such a fixture in my life.

There were times I didn't see her, but I knew she was there anyway. A bad day would come up and another kit would just appear, set inside the door of the gym waiting for me with a roll extra bandages on top, and sterile medical bag for the blood-soaked ones. She did that because she knew I needed that outlet but I felt ashamed of letting her see me like that.

Even not being here she is still here. Her presence lingers in possessions and memories around my apartment.

It exists in the smell of fresh coffee brewing even now in the kitchen of my apartment, and the machine still has the yellowing tape I never took off it, bearing her handwriting telling me which buttons do what. She made sure I had that, after a night at the base when we both couldn't sleep and found ourselves in the cafeteria together. She made a cup for herself and asked me if I wanted some. At first I said no because coffee was always too weak to do anything for me since I received the serum, turns out she had a similar metabolism problem, and even knew how to overcome that bitter taste like a professional.  _She put salt in it and somehow that actually worked!_  Somewhere in my desk I still have a sticky note with directions for the perfect cup of coffee written on it.

It exists in my toaster which is also here because of her influence, and my preference for cream cheese on bagels. When I spent a while living in her apartment to help take care of the orphaned kitten I unintentionally gave her for Christmas, that hadn’t been weaned yet and need round the clock feeding and care. I agreed to help her with that so we could take shifts and she would be able to get enough sleep. Her love of bagels and there nearly endless flavor possibility became my love of bagels, and her toaster sort of found its way here, cleverly buried in my box of things when I stopped sleeping in her guest room.

In fact all the items in my kitchen but for one frying pan and some of my silverware are here because of her. When she came over to cook one day and found out I only owned a frying pan, a set of set of silverware and dishes large enough for four people, and some steak knives. When she also realized with horror that I didn't even have a saucepan she started putting her shoes back on and told me to call a cab because we were going shopping and there would be no arguing either.

Not that I planned too, her skills in the kitchen gave me a reason to put food in my fridge and throw away my take out menu's. She made sure I wouldn't fall back into that habit too when she was reassigned to a different base, writing down some of my favorite recipes and putting a sticky note on my TV with the different cooking channels. Not that I'm anywhere near as skilled a cook is her, and I still haven't figured out how to make them taste the same is when she makes them.

And those are just object, the memory’s are just is substantial.

She's never asked me to talk about my problems if I didn't want to, but it was always just is clear that if I wanted to I’d find no better listener than her. She always knew who I was, but she really didn't seem care that I was Captain America, and when I asked her about it she told me that I wasn't Captain America to her, and I should never define myself is just that. _She actually seemed upset about it._

Then she asked me what kind of cake I liked, and told me yes it was because she was going to make me one since she heard my birthday was the next day.  _That’s just the kind of person Nora is, and is it turns out German chocolate cake is very good._

She iseven responsible for my favorite coffee mug. She gave it to me before she left. It has a tan eagle in its brown lacquered side, and the words 'world's best smile' written on the bottom of it.  _Words I didn't realize were there until after I washed it and put it upside down in my drying rack the first time._

I'm holding it know, standing in the kitchen and just looking at it, silly thing that it is. No, I have nothing to worry about, I tell myself again.

She always makes time for her friends, and somehow I'm lucky enough to be one called of those by her. I just worry that one day she will think I don’t need her so much anymore, that she will move on, because sometime, while I don't like to admit this, I need a person like that around. _I need her around to remind me that I don't have to be just Captain America to serve my country, maybe I can be both._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO

CHAPTER SEVEN

* * *

  WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

0715 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

LOKI

* * *

Well my killer has earned my wrath by demonstrating his capacity for violence on her flesh, he has redeemed himself somewhat by finding us a base of operations that can hide even the energy of the Tesseract from S.H.I.E.L.D's aerial eyes.

It is a 'Cold War' bunker buried deep in the earth, with at least three layers of lead above it, a material that he assures me will prevent the rise of the radioactive energy emitted by the cube from being detected. It also has a room, suitable enough for me to inhabit temporarily, as well as my guest.

She slept heavily but somewhat restlessly through the journey, a fact attributed due to her grievously injured state and the sedatives in her veins. The injuries were also why I ordered the doctor to make sure she stayed in that state of unconsciousness.

I did not want her to wake until we reached our destination. There was little I could do for her in the confines of that aircraft, or the back of that vehicle. Better she slept through the pain until something could be done to ease it a bit.

By my judgment the room is sparse and inadequate, though I will admit that short of creating it and furnishing it to my own specifications I would most likely find any room on this planet less than satisfactory.

Since it is only a temporary arrangement however it meets all 'our' immediate needs; it has at least five padded arm chairs, a desk and several small chests for storage, a dresser for the same purpose, and most importantly a bed big enough for two. At present it is only occupied by one though, since she is injured I surrendered the bed to her sole possession until she wakes.

The drugs forced into her system by the assassin of S.H.I.E.L.D, whose specific occupation I was not very aware of when I ignorantly sent him after her, did their job to keep her asleep for the trip. Then once we were here I had the doctor give her more for the pain I knew she must be in.

She had wounds that needed to be tended, and cleaning them would not a pleasant experience for her in any state. While the garments she came in could barely be considered clothes anymore and would need to be disposed of is well. Better that she remained blissfully unaware of what was happening to her then to wake in the middle of it to find multiple sets of male hands on her skin.

That decision however practical now leaves me feeling slightly disappointed. _I want her to wake up._ I want to speak with her. I want to see her eyes. I want her to look at me. I just...want something from her...I do not really care what.

She looks so different. I have seen her among the humans prior to this in my study of them, and am therefore familiar with the changes to her appearance, but against the last memory I have of her, she looks so very foreign to me now.

I remember soft waves in her umber hair, the strands clinging in weak desperation to the ruined shape that once was an ornate braid. Now she has cut the strands so short it only just touches her shoulders and the tips of her bangs are almost even with her lips.

I remember those too. When she ...left us... they were set in a hard line, and did not move from it except to hurl curses and angry words. They stung is was their intent, but I took them with a sense of pride, she would not give in to the will of others, she held dear to her beliefs. I had never seen her so strong, and it was when she was being driven away from me. Now though, her lips look soft, there is no tension or fury in them.

They look tempting, those full lips I remember, half open as she draws in shallow breaths. But not tempting enough that I might see her eyes open in fear of me.

I always found those eyes of hers appealing. They were or more correctly are forest green, but around her irises the striations are more of a sepia shade of brown while her pupils are encased in a darker ring. Given the people she came from, those suited her tribal heritage well, and they always looked so nice when she smiled.

They were calm when I last saw them, but at the same time they burned with hatred and grief. They accused me, and they may have been right to do so. I did not act quickly enough or well enough; it was my fault they took her.

I enjoyed the way her face was always so warm and expressive, even when she tried to restrain it. It was not when she left. It was cold and hollow, like there was nothing left for her to feel that could show on her features. She wasn't trying to hide her emotions because they did not exist anymore.

"You were right to cast blame Arnora." She counts among the very few people I would offer an apology too. "I am so sorry." If it was not for my raising her up like I did, she never could have fallen so far, she never would even have had the chance.

It is not my voice that causes her to stir slightly, so much as the effect of my fingers. Taking care not to touch her did not stop me from moving a lock of hair from her eyes, but that action came with a bit of consequence. The split in her brow had resumed leaking blood, and the liquid coagulated around some of the strands, making them tug at the wound.

I'll need to acquire more water and a clean cloth. The doctor took both on his exit as they were far too bloody to be of any use anymore, and I had been wrong in the assumption that they would not be needed. Though this small wound pales greatlyin comparison to what we started with.

I do not trust the mortals congregating here to do it for me. Their expertise is in combat, I doubt it extends too much else beyond that. But I can't help but muse how strange this situation is, or my actions as I head for the door. It is an odd twist of fate that I should be attending to her needs now, that I am the one to care for her wounds.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

0727 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

ASSAULT VICTIM

* * *

The knowledge that you're dreaming is a strange thing. You think it and you know it’s true, but it doesn't really connect. It’s like your mind only 'hears' the thought but doesn’t understand it.

I’m dreaming. I know I'm dreaming, but it doesn’t mean a thing to me. What does mean something is the state I find myself in. I'm walking in cotton ball fluff, and that is the greatest observation in the universe to me right now.

 _Expect it’s wrong._ I'm not walking in it, I'm swimming in it. _When did that distinction happen, or did it happen at all?_ "Is it even cotton ball fluff?" _Well that’s a stupid question, of course it is what else would it be..._ "Nora"

 _Yes, that's what it is, Nora, not cot..._ No, Nora is me, it’s my name. I have a name. I'm something distinct again. _Is it again? Or has it just started? Was I something before?_ "Nora."

It’s not just a thought word anymore. It’s distinct, it has a voice, and it’s not mine. I don't even know what my voice is, but it isn't the one I’m 'hearing'. I know this voice. It’s his voice. _Who is he though?...that’s right. 'He' is Clint._ I know Clint.

 _Clint is... what is Clint?_ I had a word there then it vanished. It was like the word I wanted to say was suddenly wrong, and being wrong it was ripped out of existence.I know it was important though, so that must be what Clint is, important.

So is who he is carrying. This one I know right away. It’s my baby, my boy, my kitten, my Jareth. He's wearing his red striped pants with his also white striped button up, and his teal jacket over that, with a little orange flower tucked in his pocket. He looks so adorable, and I'm so happy to see him it makes me feel sad, yet I have no idea why.

But is he scrambles out of Clint’s arms and runs over to me all I feel is joy, leaning down and scooping my little boy up is he meets me with a hug I spin us around in circles, laughing is he calls me his mama.

Even when I stop spinning I can't bring myself to let him go. I'm still crying and again I have no idea why. Even when I feel his fur start to fade away with gentle tingles I can't let go of him, I just bury my face in his shoulder and rock him softly side to side as I revel in just being able to hold this little bright eyed blonde boy in my arms again.

 _Again? What am I doing? Why am I holding a little boy?_ It is a little boy too, I can see that now. He's not a kitten at all, and he's certainly not mine. He can't be, not with his pale complexion. But oh is this little boy beautiful. He has dark lashes, and corn silk blonde hair, and his eyes look like blue jewels.

And he is speaking to me, though his mouth isn’t physically forming the words, it’s just smiling at me. The voice is still his, I know it is. "Ikke gråt mor, jeg er med alvene nå, akkurat som du sa jeg ville være." Those words are only sounds in my ears, I have no idea what they translate into, but they mean everything to me just the same. It’s like I've been waiting forever to hear them, which makes no sense to me really, but I don't care at the same time. I just hear them, and I laugh, I'm that happy, and I hug his warm little body tighter.

But it’s too warm. Something’s wrong, this warmth isn't right, he shouldn't be so warm, I know it.

I still don’t let go of him yet, I can't bring myself to, but as I lift my head up so I can look at him I don't know what I'm seeing, I just know that it’s wrong. _It’s so wrong, it’s not supposed to be this way._

 _He's cooking._  It may be stupid, and it may be wrong, but it’s all I can think. I can see his skin darkening. That pale white flesh of this boy has spots of brown appearing, welling up like tiny pinpricks of color, and spreading like ink in water over his skin. It even spreads to his hair. That corn silk color turning russet brown. It moves to his eyes too, making them aqua green instead of blue.

I almost dropped him in shock at what I was seeing, then realized something even more terrifying. I  _couldn't_  let him go!

 _I couldn't get him off me!_  The temperature was still rising, and his body was still darkening and I couldn't get him off, and he was laughing so innocently!

I didn't want to, he was just a boy, it was my responsibility to make him smile and laugh and take care of him, I had that sense and nothing ever felt more right than that. But now his body was burning me, and I was screaming for him to let go, I was so sorry for whatever I did, but he needed to let me let him go!

He was black now, and his skin was cracking, and as I turned to him for help I realized so was Clint’s! Everything was black, and harsh, and jagged, and liquid like red crystals were leaking out of the cracks. I was going to burn in this place with them, and everything was so cold somehow. And the only sound I could hear was a multitude of voices screaming at me to 'just say it', and none of them were mine!

The first thing I did was hit the floor. Well, that’s not exactly true. The first thing I really did was rocket into a sitting position with a hoarse scream, and then immediately after regret both of those actions. My head felt like it decided to roll down a mountain in a metal box while I was unconscious, and it was doing my stomach no favors. As for the screaming it made my ears feel like they were leaking blood.

The next action I took wasn't really intentional. After that senses rending moment I just sort of surrendered to the idea of not moving, but physics wasn't on my side and gravity never spared anyone. The next thing I realized was that I was leaning a little too much, and then falling.

I only had enough time to stick my hand out and save my skull from slamming into what looked like a concrete pillar, and felt like one too when it scraped off the skin of my palm. But well I managed to save my skull more pain, it didn't do much to help my side.

I had leaned too far out over the edge to stop my fall without considerable effort, and the one I had already put in wasn't the right kind either way.

The scraping sensation extended past my palm to my wrist and inner arm is the limb bent upwards due to the limited space and instead of my rib cage hitting the ground first, it made my hip the contact point is it suddenly slipped off the soft surface I’d been sitting on. I'm not sure if having my pelvic bone crash into floor was more painful, or the nerve-wracking sensation that appeared in my thigh after it did.

I've never been in this much pain before, at least not that I can recall. Everything either has this sort of dull heat to it from bruises that may or may not be visible yet, or that honest electric-like nerve pain from a more serious kind of wound. Even putting my arm elbow first through one of those hi-tech glass computer screens they have in the labs at S.H.I.E.L.D didn't hurt this much!

My back feels covered in bruises. The left half of my ribcage, my cheekbone, and my brow too. Even my throat feels stiff and sore from them. The discomfort has wrapped itself around the part of my spine that is my neck feels sore as well, and protests any movement I haven't even tried to make yet. My head is still throbbing with that dull ache, and I hope its not the kind that means I have a concussion but I just don't know because I've never had one before. I also think my sternum is bruised, or at least I hope it’s only a bruise.

I can feel the sharp twinges of pain radiating in building intensity from the scratches over my shoulders and chest is each breath stretches my skin a little, the broken skin of my forehead and eyebrow protests too at each micro expression I must be making. My poor knees and hand also feel like they're stuck in some sort of heat source. And then there’s the crest where my neck meets my shoulder feels like it’s been burned is well but I know better.

Even my scalp hurts, though that is one of the lesser pains. But I forget about all of those in a moment of crushing observation, one that leads to them being buried under a blanket of fear. _This isn't mine!_  I'm wearing something white, with a draping sleeve, and it’s not mine! _I'm not I'm in my own clothes, I didn't do this, I didn't put this on, this isn't mine!_

 _None of this is mine. None of it at all!_ That’s all the time I had for realizations, then the door opened, and I could see the skin of a Caucasian hand. _No, please, not him again, please!_

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

0729 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

????

MERCENARY

* * *

I knew there was a woman in that room, hell we all knew. I mean, how do you not notice the sight of a woman wrapped up in a leather jacket wearing nothing but what looks a huge tee shirt, and blood underneath?

Then the door closed, the boss and that bright eyed scientist shut themselves in there with her. A few hours later the scientist passed through those doors, but of all the things he said, none of them made much sense, and none seemed to be about her. Then another hour passed, and the boss himself came out, seeking fresh water and clean dressings.

He also had me retrieve the other life form that came in just is bloody and broken is her. Nobody really knows what the deal is with this woman, but if he had us go through the trouble of kidnapping a veterinarian to save a cat's life she must be pretty important to him.

It also means this poor bastard, a greedy twenty something year old who got into the wrong business and just made the mistake of scaring her, is gonna die.

We came back to the door, and already fifteen feet from it we could hear the desperate crying from the inside, and see the guard that should have been there wasn’t.

He threw that door open so hard that I could hear the tiny pings of concrete pebbles hitting the floor is the door recoiled back from its impact with the wall.

The guard who was _supposed_ to stay _outside_ the door and prevent any uninvited guest from coming in, was now in the room, and he spun around so quickly he almost fell as he tried to perform a salute and a sharp sir followed by an apology. He knew he was in trouble, at least he had that much sense.

But any appeasing his display of respect might have gotten from the boss was killed by the stupidity that rolls off his tongue. "I don't know what’s wrong with her sir. I found her like this when I came in." The state he's referring to, now that I can see a head of brown hair, is cowering in the corner.

"Perhaps soldier, given that she is both trembling and pleading against your approach..." _Oh, if I wasn't sure he was gonna die before, I am now._  His tone is low and practically hissed through clenched teeth he is so mad at the dumb kid. _This one is definitely done for._ "...one would assume she is afraid of YOU. Or does your limited comprehension lead you to a different conclusion!?"

I don’t need to hear the order spoken. I've been in this business long enough to know when it's implied, and before the fool can dig his grave even deeper I've set the box down, and occupied my hand with snatching him by the collar and practically throwing him out of the room.

The door only is closed for a moment before I catch him in the same spot by his collar and spinning him back around pin him to the wall and press the barrel of my silencer against the back of the his head before I watch the top of his skull bow out a little from the bullet, then let his body slump to the floor as I go to find someone to help me drag him off and bury him before the boss opens that door again. _Don’t want the lady to see it after all, or next time I'll be the body on the floor._

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

0731 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI

* * *

I hear the sound, however faint it is beyond the door because I was hoping to hear it. But for one who was not expecting it, it would be indistinguishable from all the other louder sounds of assembly coming from beyond that door.

It seems _that_ soldier has some intelligence, at least enough to form educated guesses on what I will want and think ahead. That alone makes him a mortal worth keeping. I think I will assign him the spot that has just been vacated, but for the time being that concern is fleeting.

The more pressing concern right now is her mental well being, and how I wish to approach her.

Ideally I planned for her to wake to the presence of her kitten sleeping on the pillow next to her. Something comforting and familiar being the first living thing she saw when she opened her eyes, to instill in her the idea that this might be a place of friendly people and security, because what other manner of people would be so considerate?

I also planned to assume the non-threatening state of a sleeping guardian. I of course would be faking the slumber, but there is very little threat posed by someone who isn't even conscious and I thought it a good way to introduce myself. Especially since I would not even be 'asleep' in the bed, but having forgone that comfort and choosing the less pleasant option of sleeping in a chair, one is far across the room is its size would allow.

Of course the stupidity of a mortal boy forced me to change my plans. Well agent Barton has been quick and efficient in acquiring men for my cause, the urgency of the situation has made it more of a matter of quantity over quality.

For the moment I do little but stand there, pondering over my new options, and disregarding those that stand a poor chance of accomplishing what I want.

While I do this however I cannot help but observe her. She has fallen silent, at least in the way of words. I can still hear her taking sharp shallow breaths, unable to stop them given the nervous state she must be in. I can also tell, that while she has not lifted her head from the safety of her arms, that she is quite keenly observing me in every other way but sight.

When I finally come to a decision that leads to movement, it comes from me and her. I take a step, and I pause. She has gone tense and silent, even her breath has stopped from that single step. Then I take another step despite her fears.

I offer her none of the hostility I know she expects of me. What I do offer her is a heavy blanket of brown wool draped with great care to keep my hands a generous distance from her skin as I wrap it around her.

Then I place the open box, with her still sleeping pet inside it, in front of her. She does not see it, but a small smirk claims my expression as she tries to tuck her feet farther inside the walls of the blanket I just gave her, despite the fact they have no more room to move in that direction.

I do nothing else but that, and stand to leave. But at the door I pause for a moment to present her with a small verbal hook. "You have my apologies for the distress you have suffered. When you have calmed and are able, I will be outside the door awaiting your summons. No one shall enter but by your permission my lady."

Before I had little option but force my presence on her, no matter how gently I planned to do so. She would either wake to see me in the room, or see me walk through the door. Now, she will choose when it happens, and that will give her the illusionary sense of control.

That man’s idiocy may actually benefit me in the long run. Pity for him I suppose, that I make no accommodations for stupidity. Better to remove it before it causes problems.

There is a confident undertone to my smirk, and it is not misplaced. Just before the door closed and its latch clicked I heard a small breathless sob come from her as she no doubt finally examines the box. That sound speaks of more promise and progress than any words could. _I will not be kept waiting long._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO

CHAPTER EIGHT

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

0742 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

 I cried, the door had barely closed and I already started crying. I didn't care, why should I care. This whole situation is so wrong, what would be the point of pretending I had some sort of pride or strength to hang on to?

 _It’s not like there’s anything left._ I tell myself not to think that, but it’s still just as true.

My home's gone. It was really gone the second I saw Clint in the living room, I just didn't realize it right away. The house was compromised, it wasn't safe anymore. I couldn't go back now, people would ask questions, my cover would be blown. _He knows where it is._

 _Oh god..._ that thought brings another wave of sobs rising out of my chest, and I try to rock them away. _...how did this happen?! What’s even going on?!_

Clint was supposed to be the guy who protected me, he _was_ the guy who protected me! He was always there to make me feel safe and secure, right from the first day I met him in that hospital room. He always went out of his way for me, and if the situation ever needed a punch thrown, he was the first to do it, but FOR me, not AT me.

That wasn't Clint, that couldn't have been Clint, Clint wouldn't hurt me. I keep telling myself that lie. That I was wrong, that I made a mistake and it was someone else. But I don't believe it. I know Clint. I know the strength of his arms, and the weight of his hands. I know how he moves, I know how he speaks, and how he smells. I know Clint. I know Clint. I know him.

The man I trusted with my life, just tried to take it from me! 'He' tried to take more than that! I can still feel the scrape of 'his' teeth on my skin as 'he'... I don't even want to finish that thought. _No, no, no, no, no, no..._ But the thing about thoughts is it’s not like speaking, you can't cut them off mid-way.

 _'He' tried to rape me. My 'brother' wanted to rape me!_ I can tell myself that 'he' wasn't himself, that whatever the glow in his eyes it was made him act that way. But that excuse only goes so far. I felt 'his' hands tearing at my clothes!

 _Oh god, I don't even know if 'he' did!_  I can't remember, I just... I was on the ground, and I couldn't move and... 'His' knife was still in me! ' _He' stabbed me! 'He' really stabbed me!_

 _And then 'his' lips were at my throat. 'He' was licking the blood off my skin, and I could feel 'him' grinning..._ My ability to form thoughts fades as the hysterical sobs manage to become internalized for a minute because I just don't know what happened after that! I can't remember anything else! I was screaming and crying on the inside, and then there was nothing else, but I was still there, lying under 'Clint', and I CAN'T REMEMBER!

I don't care if it hurts my muscles, it doesn't stop me from frantically pressing my unburnt hand into my abdomen. starting at my stomach and trailing my heel down, it’s almost like I'm trying to push this possible offense out of me, even as I’m trying to tell whether the pain is internal or not.

And now I'm here. In a room I've never been in, wearing clothes that aren't mine, with armed soldiers outside, where someone treated my wounds, and a man I don't know brought in a box that has my kitten in it and put a blanket around me.

I can feel them now. Beyond the pain but beneath the material of this almost fairytale like dress I can feel them, cotton bandages and ointments over the worst of my wounds. And as distressing as the idea that someone had to have touched me while I was unconscious to do that, they did it to help me. I was hurt, and they fixed me.

That isn't something 'not Clint' would do, normal Clint probably, but not this new 'Clint'.

Then there’s my kitten too. I thought he was dead, I was so sure of it.

I was trying to dig him out from under a whole bookshelf worth of spilled books. It had to at least have been fifty pounds of heavy rectangular hard covers that landed on top of his little body, all because my little warrior was brave and foolish enough to try and protect me. I didn't even get a chance to uncover him before 'Clint' attacked me again.

But here he is, with a bright pink cast on his leg and around his shoulder, still sleeping off the drugs they must have given him for the surgery that cast implies he went through. If I couldn't feel his warm little body breathing in my arms I wouldn't believe he was alive and with me again.

Bringing me here and fixing me up is one thing, but to go through the trouble of finding my kitten in that chaos and doing the same for him is something else entirely. _I don't know who these people are, but that has to count for something because that’s not a gesture of an enemy._ At least I really hope that’s the case.

I mean, the man in charge, whoever he is, I didn't really look at him yet, he doesn't seem like an enemy. He even offered me an apology for my suffering before he left to let me get myself together. That's a very considerate thing for a person to do, and it doesn't seem like a reason not to trust him. But I trusted Clint, and look what that got me.

 _No, no, I... I can't think like that._  That man and these people, whoever they are and however I got here, they are probably the ones responsible for saving my life. I should thank them for that, even if I turn out to be wrong, because as much as I want to just sit here and disappear I need to know what’s going on. I can't do that if I just hide in here and cry.

 _I’m better than that._ I'm not great, I'm not Natasha, but I should be better than this. _I am better than this._ Level one or not, I am an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, I've been trained and taught how to keep my head in bad situations, confusing situations. Situations just like this. _It doesn't get anymore confusing or bad then this._

 _You can do this Nora, you're one of the strongest people I know._  That thought helps, because it’s not thought in my voice, it's thought in Steve's, and I can practically see his broad gentle smile. I may have lost one pillar of strength but I still have others.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

0813 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

LOKI

* * *

It did not take long, as I imagined it would not, but it actually took less time than I thought. Little more than a half hour passed before I sensed her presence move to the other side of the door, and heard her soft voice pass through it.

That too, now that it is in my ears, I find I have missed terribly as well. It is not truly how I wish to hear it however. It sounds small and timid, and full of uncertainty as it lacks a name to call out for. Still it is her voice, and a voice I have not heard in centuries.

It is a strange but welcome occurrence that out of everything this tiny piece of her has not changed. A precious and beautiful one too, enough that I let my eyes close and a small smile spread is I just listen to the notes of it for a few seconds, but only a few. I do not want to keep her waiting too long.

 _I do not want to keep her waiting too long? Hm..._ Even in my head that thought sounds so very unlike me. It has been so long since I even bothered to put on a convincing show of concern outside of my... _family_. I simply stopped caring to do so, and by the Norns, it is such a twist that habit returns for a woman like her.

"I am here my lady." _But oh,..._ I am a Prince, and a conqueror, yet I find it worth this display of courtesy. I ask her, seeking out her permission to enter, however indirectly. "Is there something you need?" _...it will yield me such reward._

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

0814 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

SURVIVOR OF AN ASSAULT

* * *

"Is there something you need?" It’s such a simple question, there's nothing dramatic about it. Except the reaction it made me have. _Oh, there’s so much I need, so much. Answers, any, all of them, just one. Half of one even. That’s what I need._

I thought I was done crying, I thought I moved past that and reached some sort of emotional plateau I could stay level at. Stupid me, I forgot that I’m a 'feather pillow'. _Oh, that thought was the wrong one to have._

Now I'm thinking of Clint again. Clint gave me that nickname after he saw how worried I was over him the first time I saw him spar with someone. 'Clint' who had his hands all over me, 'Clint' who had his... "Please, please, tell me what’s going on, just..."

"My lady, you are crying." He didn't really need to say that, I knew, it was my eyes the damn tears were leaking from after all. "I said I would not enter but on your permission, but I ask you for it now. Please move away from the door so I can come in."

I nod, then have the embarrassing realization that he can't see that because he isn't in here with me yet. "O-Okay. Y-Yes, of course..." I follow that command even as I ramble, and do my best to ignore the painful jolt that my thigh muscle spasm with each step backwards.

It hurts more than my trip to the door did, probably because this one wasn't as rushed. "...c-co-come o-on in." and it wasn't accompanied by so much nervousness.

He has shown himself to be a friendly person so far, but he is still a stranger and I am inviting him into a room I'm in, all alone.

He's taller than me, I can tell that already even though he is just standing in the doorway. It’s not really much an observation though when you consider that I'm only five foot three.

It’s just he's got about a foot on me, and while normally I'm used to being one of the smaller people in the room, it makes me very nervous now. Not just because he's tall, but because he's a tall _man_.

But I take some comfort in the fact that he doesn't look very big in terms of muscle mass. Not to say he is small, but of all the men I've spent time around, one of the main ones was Captain America, and that has altered my opinions on things like that a little. This man doesn't seem frail or fragile though, I've learned to identify the difference between a person who is out of shape and skinny, and a person who is strong but lean. That’s what he seems to be, it’s how he carries himself.

Important too, he carries himself with an air of that is well, he hasn't made a move or said a word yet to me, but his posture is almost regal, there’s no slack or slouch even though all he is doing is closing a door.

That regal air is in his clothes too. They’re strange, almost costume-esque to my mind, but they're well made. Exceptionally so in fact. I wouldn't be surprised if they were tailor made just for him. I'd be more surprised if they weren’t.

He is dressed in leathers and metal, with such a level of detail to them I'd even say the details have details and not feel silly at all about that observation.

He is wearing a long leather vest, which if it wasn't for its lack of sleeves it might count as a jacket since it nearly brushes the floor, falling even with his ankles. Its pressed leather too, the shoulders are strong enough to hold their form, well the lapels folded in place and designed not to move. The edges and seams of it are also trimmed with what actually seem to be tiny square studs of tarnished gold or light bronze.

Over his right shoulder is a piece of armor that fits the description of a medieval pauldron more than anything else. It’s held in place by a strap of leather that crosses over his chest to slip into his leather shirt. Which it too is made of the same kind of metal is the studs, but has a very ornate motif pounded into it, one that I would have to study in closer detail to know what it is supposed to be.

The shirt in question actually seems to be some kind of armor, given what looks to be a chest plate with a golden inset that seems to mimic the shape of a collarbone placed in it. It’s fixed right into the crisscrossing strips of black leather and green cloth that are a part of the article, as well as what looks like checkerboard pieces of that metal again in one section.

The same pattern seems to extend to the sleeves of it as well, green cloth and black leather with the metal like trim and a pair of decorated golden vambraces sitting on top.

My observation of him stops there and refuses to go any lower, because this is a man, and I still don't know what the situation I've found myself in is. Instead I force my eyes to change their course and look up.

 _His face!_ When my eyes settle on his I find myself taking in a sharp breath, but I have no idea why.  _I've never seen it before._ I don't know what that reaction was, it’s like I was expecting something but there’s nothing to expect and it's making my head hurt again a little.

If I thought his posture was regal, it’s somewhat justified by the features of his face. It’s silly to say because I don't really believe in it, but he looks to come from a family of fine breeding.

His face is thinner, in keeping with the rest of him, but it’s not gaunt. The nose is thin and centered nicely, lacking any prominent bumps or ridges to its slope. As for his mouth, the lips are a little thinner than most, but it’s balanced by the fact they are wider, and seem to give him the illusion of a small smile even when they aren’t wearing one.

He's healthy whoever he is, albeit he looks a little tired, with those rings lingering around his aqua green eyes. _Green? Why does that seem so...?_

The observation I might made is cut off by a sharp twinge right behind my eyes. _No, not now, not now! Not now, please not now!_ This isn't just a headache, I know it isn’t. I've had enough those lately to know the difference. It’s an episode.

They're like oil. If there’s a crack, and there usually is somewhere, it will find it and push. And push and push until it forces its way through to the surface, and it hurts. I never knew how much it could hurt to fight them, because before this I never did, I'd welcome them.

I was always happy when they came before, it was like receiving a present, and I always looked forward to that. I never knew what they would be, but I was never disappointed by or afraid of what they brought me. Not like I am now. _Golden, everything is golden, the walls, the roof, the floor of this round room..._

But I can’t lose myself to one right now. I can't let my mind drift away on a stream of visions and sounds while it leaves my body alone and helpless with a stranger.

 _The waves are angry, I can hear them outside this structure, breaking themselves against the rocks. I am angry..._ They carry emotions with them too sometimes, ones powerful enough to change my own to match them. They carry them now. _I can't, no, I can't, I can’t get angry, don't get angry._

 _Even the calm eyes that look at me are golden, just like armor, and the sword in their owner's brown hands..._  there’s no face I can see in these flashes to tell me who I’m looking at.

There is no face to any of them. There is the man in gold on one side, but on the other there is a group that I can't see anything in but can still identify is a group, and I hate them, I hate them all so much.

There is one voice though, but it doesn't help me either, because it's mine! _"...I will not relent. I will never relent!..."_ it just keeps saying it over and over.

But blessedly, it says it a little quieter each time. The episode is finally fading away, but it's left me with a feeling like my head is going trying split in two or cave in on itself and it doesn't really care which happens first. That too is fading away though, and as it does I feel my self awareness come back in its wake.

It always happens like that, I end up trapped by what's happening in my own head, all my senses directed to there until I'm either snapped out of it or it fades away on its own accord. Now though, I can feel my body again. I have skin, and tissue, bones and blood. I have hands again, and with that comes a very frightening revelation. I don’t have three hands!

I missed it at first just because the touch was cooler and firmer than I expected it to be, but is more of my awareness returned I realized what was wrapped gently over my sleeve wasn't a single solid object, but had spacing in between the farthest parts of it, making it one object that half way through divide itself into five. It was a palm and it's fingers. _I was... I am being touched!_

"No! No!..." The panic takes hold quickly, too quickly for me to make the distinction that normally a touch doesn’t necessarily mean an attack. It keeps me from noticing a few other things right way too like how prior to the episode I had been cradling my cat protectively in my arm, the arm that is now frantically pushing my burnt hand despite the pain against the armor of his chest piece. Or how the view of the room has changed, seemingly much taller than before because I am set lower than before, no longer standing, but being guided into a seated position gently in what feels like a chair.

"Shh..." He does his best to make the tone of his voice soft and soothing as he urges me down the last inch or so to completely rest my weight against the padded surface. "...I am not going to hurt you little one."

The hand I've been struggling against finally lets go of me, those cool fingers uncurling from their position on my upper arm before both pull back, along with the rest of him is he retreats a few feet for my comfort, and raises his hands in a surrendering gesture.

 _He's wearing gloves._ That knowledge brings me such a wave of relief it’s almost a physical sensation. "You looked about to fall, forgive me if I frightened you. I did not mean to upset you but I had little choice."

"I...I-I..." I have a whole sentence in my head, and in there it’s perfectly steady and understandable, it’s just when I try to articulate I can’t get past the first syllable! I’m shaking, everything is shaking, from the hands I clutch protectively against my chest, to the very breath leaving it. I know what this is too, but I haven't had one of these in over a year.

My eyes shoot up to meet him, and well it’s more of shock that this is to me happening again, he must see the expression is one of fear, given his concerned yet reassuring response. "It is alright, you are having an anxiety attack, just focus on your breathing, and it will pass." He even looks a bit repentant like he knows why. _But how would he know?_

I can't think of anything else to do though right now except nod softly and follow that very sound advice, but even while following his instructions I'm still fixated on how he knows, or if he really doesn’t know and I'm just imagining it.

"Can I trust you to stay sitting please?" He is still in front of me, resting on his heels in a sort of half crouch is he looks at me intently. "Neither of you are in much condition to be on your feet for long yet, and you far less with that _..._ ” _I don’t need him to elaborate what he means by 'that'_ “ ...injury, But something to drink will do you good."

The distrust I should feel about his offer to give me something to drink is buried quickly under the reminder of my kitten. I remember that I was cradling him to my chest before the episode started, and then I realized I was not holding him anymore, but I don't remember anything in between to tell me how that change happened.

My fears that I dropped him and hurt him even more evaporates when in my frantic search for the sight of him, my eyes find him sleeping peacefully on the chair next to me, still under the effects of the sedatives, but purring quietly. "He is fine my lady."

Hearing his voice I let my eyes turn to the dark haired man in the room with me, and I find him smiling reassuringly at me as he pauses in the middle of lifting what looks like a thermal carafe to tell me that good news. "When you became faint, once I steadied your fall I took him and set him out of harm’s way. He never even stirred through it all."

There’s really not a lot to say to that, and nothing I can think of that’s more appropriate than what I do say. "T-Than-ank you. T-Thank you s-so much."

I'm even impressed with myself how much steadier my voice is already. So is he if I had to guess by the way his eyes widen a little and the small tug of a smile on his lips. "Of course. Here now, drink this."

That last word is in reference to the object he is holding in his hand. It’s a glass, or more accurately a canning jar containing some kind of hot amber colored beverage, the temperature apparent given the steam rising from it and the condensation forming on outside of the glass.

It actually looks and smells very delicious right now if I'm honest with myself. I don't know how long I've been here, but I was hungry even before the attack... _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it._

 _Think about... the goosebumps you have instead._ Its true, wherever this place is it’s a bit chilly, enough so that I can feel them all over my skin.

Its a great reason for me to take it, but I still hesitate to, for quite a few other reasons. One of which he seems to pick up on and address. I don't know what it is. "It is a kind of cider, I believe they said it was called Wassail." and one I don't even really care about. "I do apologize for the poor presentation, but this facility lacks much in the way of dinnerware I am afraid."

"Oh, n-no it’s fine." I say it with a bit of a faltering smile, worried my hesitation might have offended him somehow, and to reassure him I don't mind the idea of drinking out of a jar, I even have, or had, a few of those jars myself and saw no problem using them is glasses. Not that I plan to take so much is a sip unless he does first. He's been very polite so far, but I still don't know him. For all I know it could be laced with something.

"It’s just..." The weak smile I tried to offer fades away as I chew a bit on my inner lip in a sense of shame I really have no reason at all to feel. Lifting up my hand I show him proof to go with my words. "...I b-burn-ed my h-hand."

I can see him realize his mistake as his eyes widen before drifting closed and his mouth pulls into a bit of a stiff grin. "Yes, of course. You are right. I forgot about that injury..." It’s a jar, not a mug, it doesn't have a handle for me to hold it with. "...My apologies."

"N-No y-y-you do-don'..." My words won't come out again! I've been trying really hard this whole time to not think about it, but for some reason, lifting my hand up to show him and seeing the edge of pink scorched skin meet my unburned skin just makes it all slam back to the forefront of my mind, and I can’t stop it this time.

Shh..." I didn't see him set down the drink, but he must have because now he is back to kneeling in front of me again and it’s not in either of his hands. The sudden movement and proximity makes me jerk back a little, but he takes no visible offense, unless you count his frowning a little more at the wince of pain the movement gives me. Then he goes right back to trying to reassure me. "You are alright, you are safe now my dear."

I hear those words, and really I understand them, but it doesn't stop me from rambling on hysterically. "N-N-No y-y-you do-don-n't un-n-der-s-s-stan-nd, i-if h-he, I-I w-w-was, a-and th-then h-he, an-and, and he w-w-was, and I-I, I, I co-could-d feel hi-i-i-m, and ple-lease, I -I just, I can-an't, I ne-eed t-to, please, please, please, please..."

 _I can't, I can't, I can’t..._  I can feel 'Clint' on top of me. He feels so heavy, much heavier than I do. Which is strange because my muscles feel like they're made out of cement, and far too heavy for me to move. Yet at the same time they make me feel so light, like I might just float away if it wasn't for the solidness of his weight settled over my waist.

Then there’s this strange cold numbing sensation spreading from my left thigh that somehow very distantly feels a little like pain if it can find its way past the cold.

But 'his' hands aren't cold. Their hot and a bit sweaty and rough, both his skin and his grip. I can feel the backs of his knuckles strike and scrape over my skin is he fights frustrated with the strength of my shirts collars.

I can feel his breath, and his teeth, and the trace of his tongue. I can feel the sound leave his chest is it's weighing me down. I can feel his other hand, its fingers on my thigh, slipping away from the object radiating that cold pain, to settle on my slick skin.

... _I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't, I just can't..._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO  
  
CHAPTER NINE

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

0829 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

LOKI

* * *

I knew she would not welcome it at all, but at this point her fear of that weighed against the fear already present in her mind would hardly add much to the problem. I could fathom a good guess is to what her concern was, and it was all but confirmed by the fact she practically started clawing through her dress to physically remove the vile memory from her skin.

I obviously could not let her do that to herself, nor would even if there was a choice. She was far to injured already.

Small and delicate in size is she is it did not take me long to overpower her efforts and force her frantic hands away from their assault on her abdomen. The part of it all that took me longer was just capturing her wrists because I made the point of gripping them only over the sleeves of her dress.

It comes as no surprise me that when she recognizes the touch of my hands, or hands in general, that she tries to free herself from them with greater earnest. Her reaction does not really offend me even if I will admit I find it upsetting. She is trapped by a fear almost exclusively felt by a woman. I do not have the right to be offended by her reaction, not when I am male.

She worries she has been raped, and why would she not come to such a terrible conclusion when her last clear memory is no doubt being trapped under a mans painful and aggressive hands.

With that particular detail mind in I do my best to keep my grip of her limbs a gentle one, but still not so gentle she can free her wrists from them and resume her assault on her own skin. It is a necessary moment of cruelty on my part and one I wish I did not have to employ, especially since it is making her cry.

 _It is a sound I hate so much when it is carried by her voice._ It brings up such terrible memories.

My impeding presence in front of her is not helping her maintain a calm state of mind either, but with my need to keep her in the chair, and my hands weighting her wrists against the furniture’s arms there really is not anywhere else for my form to be. It leaves her with the fruitless option of trying to push as far back into it's frame to get away from me, but beyond the barrier of the chairs back there is also the impassable barrier of a wall to prevent her retreat.

"No little one..." The words are spoken mostly to my ears at first. I am sure she hears them, but the first few are no more than sounds beyond her frightened state. "...No. What you fear, it did not happen. He did not have a chance, I swear to you he did not,..."

It is here I can feel the tiny shift in her demeanor is she finally registers the meaning of the words within my voice, and I hear one sharper breath amidst the rest. "...HE. DID. NOT."

Then all the energy she put into fighting my hold on her transforms into sobs of relief and joy as, to my great surprise she leans into me! Her body so overcome by the intensity of those emotions that her muscles weaken under their force suddenly and she lets her forehead rest against the curved leather of my jackets shoulder. I can feel the trembling in her muscles through the weight of her hands on my arms. Well still secured within the grip of my hold she has somehow managed to twist them around, and clutch awkwardly in her desperation at the ends of my sleeves.

I have to remind myself that however appealing the temptation her touch instills in me, or how inviting the idea seems, that simply because she choose me is the thing she anchored herself to for comfort in a moment of great distress, it does not mean I have her permission to touch her back. I can and do however still have the safer option of further reassuring words."You are untouched little one, undefiled, your honor is pure, you are safe here with me, you are protected now."

Beyond my voice, and beyond those damnable tears I still can hear hers, weak and broken though it is, reciting what sounds like a litany of thank you's to match each word from mine.

I both revel, and rage over those words at the same time. I am glad to see her calming down and regaining her wits, but I _hate_ how I have found her so fragile and helpless that relief seems so heavy a burden to her now. _They will pay for damaging what is mine._

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

0831 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

He's never touched me, not once. Sure I'm aware of the fact he just held my arms down to prevent me from hurting myself, and prior to that he also caught me when I almost fell during the episode. But he hasn’t actually touched me yet. As soon as he judged me calm enough that I wouldn’t try to hurt myself again, his hands simply let go of my wrists, a sorrowful but somewhat amused smile on his face when I was the one who seemed almost hesitant to let go of his leather sleeves.

He has had gloves on the whole time, I notice now. Which may not count is that unusual for this man, they maybe a normal part of his attire. The part that does make it strange to me and really proves he knows is that even though he is wearing gloves, when he caught me by the wrists he didn’t just grab them, first he reached higher, and pulled the cotton of the sleeves back into place, setting yet another layer between his leather and my skin.

"You know about it, don’t you." The words could be a question or even an accusation of some kind depending on the tone I spoke them in, if I spoke them with a tone that is. The way I say them, they're really not much more than six words, spoken toward the general area of my hands, without me really looking at them or anything.

There’s a audible pause in the sounds of his activity, coming from whatever he must be doing at the table to my left he has now moved to. "Yes..." Then the sound of his voice is replaced by the falls of his feet and the sight of his legs passing in front of me, and beyond as he takes up a position in the chair to my right. "...I know of you aversion to touch. I hope you will forgive me for that, if my knowledge of it offends you, but you were not in a state to tell me yourself."

I shouldn’t have, and I knew it even is the unbidden sound left my lips, but I laughed. _Aversion to touch? Aversion, like it’s is simple as something I don’t like? Like the taste of pickles or people with poor hygiene?_ No, aversion is the wrong word, its no weak a word for it. There’s a much better one and it is one I have an substantial aversion to. That word is Phobia and I hate how it has defined my life.

It’s always been about skin for me, the skin of strangers, and of friends and even my own skin. Every day of my short life, I’ve spent it agonizingly aware of this barrier separating me from the world, and secluding me from others. I'm so afraid of a thing that to most people doesn’t even cross their mind. Handshakes, hugs, being held in someone’s arms or just bumping into someone's shoulder on your walk down the street. It’s just a touch to them, something so simple and inconsequential that they don’t even acknowledge it with a thought!

It's not something that leaves them so scared they're breathless and shaking beyond any measure of control. _Their lucky, but me, I’m cursed. It isn’t fair to fear something like that, not to me or the people who care about me._ I sometimes hate 'normal' people for that, even if that emotion makes me feel guilty and petty afterwords. I know I shouldn’t, its not their fault that I have this affliction.

The laugh is not much more than half a sound. It only exists in the time it takes for me to bring up my hands and cover my mouth with a different kind of fear driving my actions. "I’m..."

"No." My eyes lifted the same time is my hands did to cover my mouth, so I was already looking at him is he spoke that command, and well I can’t say the tone of his voice was particularly intense, I can say that about the look in his eyes. They were nothing but serious is they cut me off and continued. "I need no apologies from you my dear. I recognize the effects of stress easily enough when I see them..."

I had the intention of beginning another one of those automatic response, this time one of agreement, but he didn’t even allow a break in his words long enough for me to fill is his hands came into view, holding within it the immediately identifiable shape of a bottle of pills "..., and those of pain."

 _He's leaving the decision up to me..._ I realized is he finished that sentence. He was presenting me with the right to make my own choice. He even goes as far is to shake the bottle, unsettling any preset order to the pills, and pour a few into his hand. It’s a silent offer to prove to me that he is acting in good faith, showing me if it will make me more comfortable that he will take them is well, just to assure me in case I was suspicious, that they aren’t some kind of poison.

He's deliberately going out of his way and giving me every consideration he can think of to make this situation less distressing for me. And I know I should take advantage of them, these considerations. He's right after all, I am in so much pain and he hasn’t given me any concrete reason not to trust that his intentions are to help me, but... I can’t.

I don’t know why exactly, I just can't bring myself to accept it when I try. _Something is stopping me._

"I..." What wants to come out of my mouth is another apology, but remembering his request from only a moment ago I quickly cut it off before it can form, and think about how to better start again. "...D-Don’t take it pers-personally, really, I-I’m really s-so grateful, for all of this, but, I j-just can't yet, with everything that’s hap-happened. I, I just can’t."

"I do not mind your suspicions of me or what my intentions may be." Any protest I might have made against that is stopped by him shaking his head knowingly and waving it off. "If anything my dear I am glad to see that you do not place trust in a... stranger...blindly." I don’t miss the odd inflection he places on the word stranger. "But you are clearly in pain, and I am not inclined to let you stay that way. So please, take them."

He lifts his outstretched hand a little higher in a gesture of encouragement, with an expression of gentle urging to match it. But despite telling myself once again that he's right and I’m really just being silly about this whole thing, my hand still hesitates, and drops back down toward my lap without claiming the relief of the bottle in its fingers.

This time, his request for me not to aside, I can’t think of anything else to offer him but an apology, so I do.“I'm really sorry. I cant? I'm sorry.”

He offers me one in return. “Then I am sorry is well.”

That catches my attention very quickly, and it is not in a comforting way.

My eyes had drifted back down to my hands with a sense of shame behind their relocation, but they shoot back up to meet his when I heard him say that. They just watch with a sense of confused dread growing within me is he poured the pills back into the bottle and recapped it, afterward letting it roll casually out of his hand and disappear unseen into the cushion of the chair as he rose up from it to his feet once more.

"I was very much hoping it would not have to come to this, but you leave me with no choice in the matter." Those words transform the sense of dread in me to something greater, but it wasn’t until he actually put his hand on the handle to open the door and called for people on the outside to come in that it solidified.

_No, no, he just said he knows I can’t stand to be touched, he knows its a phobia, he knows what it is, so he wouldn’t really do that to me, would he?_

"P-plea-ease, I’m-m so-sorry,..." I sound very pathetic to my ears, once again whimpering out my words, and I probably look it too but I don’t care about that right now. If it will make him change his mind I’ll be the most pathetic thing to ever exist, and with that logic in my mind the pitying look he gives me almost seems like a blessing. “...I’ll ta-take t-them." I plead once again before letting my eyes scour across the chair cushion in search of that bottle, but with no success.

His expression changes back to concern once again however as I stand up to get a better view of the chair from a different angle and continue my search. The movement made pain rocket through the nerves of my leg when I made the mistake of putting my weight on it, and I wasn’t quick enough to stop the wince or shocked cry of pain that followed.

"You may believe you mean those words little one, but I doubt you will be able to honor them. I do not expect you will forgive me for this, but the opportunity has passed you by."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In spite of my habit of posting pictures to go with the individual chapters, I have none for this chapter since most of the physical things that can be shown in a picture were presented in previous chapters. I apologize to anyone who enjoys the visual aids, but promise that there will be more to come.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER TEN 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

0841 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

CAPTIVE 

* * *

I just made a huge mistake. That's my number one observation right now and that's all there is to it!

I don't know what I did wrong exactly, or how I could have done things any better, I just know I didn't do the right thing and I'm in serious trouble!

I had some suspicions of the situation and maybe I should have done something about them sooner. It didn't sound like a good idea though, but the good ideas I did listen to just brought me to a very horrible end.

I was enjoying all the kindness he offered me, but kindness isn't enough to stop me from thinking, it never has been. Especially since I tend to be be suspicious of people's motives when I first met them anyways, and once I calmed down a little I started to do just that again.

He didn't say it himself, but it was implied strongly enough by the circumstance of me simply being here that he, or the people who work for him saved me. I'm sure I'm right when I assume that these people work for him, and not the other way around since I've seen two men dressed for combat, and both have done as he said. Then there's the fact the first even called him sir and saluted him. I don't need any more evidence than that to know he must be the person in charge here.

But while I am very glad toward whoever the individuals were that did save me, the cautious and analytical thought process I picked up being part of S.H.I.E.L.D can't help but come to the question of what they were even doing there to begin with?

I was down, and out of it. I was done for, even if I hadn't been unconscious I was done! My  _opponent_  was Clint, I was done from the start! There was no way I was going to win that fight, there was never anything stopping Clint from doing what he wanted to me back there  _but this man in charge said nothing happened?!_

Those words sound so wonderful, and they're exactly what I need to hear, and I want to believe. I do believe them too, to a degree. I'm not saying I don't, but I'm just saying that they were too wonderful, too convenient. Clint was right on top of me, he had already started...  _To stop him in time, they must have been right there too!_

What would they be doing there at my house to save me, and why would they even know to come since they haven't owned up to being S.H.I.E.L.D?  _I'm not that important._

I know it's a horrible thing to think about yourself, but it's true that I'm not. In the grand machine that is S.H.I.E.L.D I'm not very important at all. Sure I have the rank of an agent, but at level one I'm the person who deals with unwanted paperwork, messes, and making coffee. While they wouldn't just abandon me is a lost cause, there would always be higher priorities than me that would come first and I accepted that.

I shouldn't be worth the number of lives it would cost to take him down and there's no way they took me from that 'Clint' without casualties. Sure, they would try to rescue me from him, but if I died in the process it would be an acceptable loss, after all, they would even kill 'Clint' if became truly necessary and he is one of their most valuable agents!

I really believed that thought to be a fact, right up until my eyes proved me wrong.

He was calling in men, and  _they_  came in. Not a single man, but 'men', plural! I wanted to try and shut them out somehow, to barricade the door with a chair, or even my shoulder in my desperation. But to do that I would have had to move closer to the man who held it open for them, and I knew if I did he would undoubtedly put his hands back on me, so my traitorous body just made the decision for me.

First there was the soldier that had dragged the other one out earlier, he came in so quickly that he was probably just right outside when he was called.

Then there was another form entering through the archway, and I felt my breath hitch in my throat when enough of him had entered for me to identify. I knew who it was, I knew those clothes! Grey khakis and brown leather shoes. A plaid button up and a tie. I saw these things earlier today if it's even still the same day. I left him wearing those things, but I didn't leave him with those eyes!

It was 'Erik' but it wasn't Erik because he had the same eyes as 'Clint'! That they were smiling and seemed happy to see me only broke my heart even more, right before it froze to death.

If I wasn't sure it wasn't him anymore, I only had to look at the eyes of the third person who walked in to compare them. Clint was here, Clint was alive, and 'Clint' was smirking at me!  _They didn't save me from him! They recruited him and took me is a prize!_

When the first hand touched me I fought against it hard! I kicked and clawed and screamed! I didn't care that it wasn't 'Clint's' hands trying to wrestle me under control. I didn't care that the man in charge stopped 'Clint' when he started to advance on me to do it himself, and told the other soldier to restrain me instead.

I didn't care when 'Erik' tried to reassure me it wouldn't hurt if I relaxed as he prepared a needle he intended to put in my skin! I just cried and begged him to help me, he was supposed to be my friend, why wouldn't he help me?! Then I cried more when he told me not to worry, that they were going to make everything better.

 _Better?_  I was trapped in a room with a man that I always thought would protect me from everything and instead he came to my home and covered me in wounds. A stranger who seemed to want nothing more the to help me, then knowingly gave an order that to me might is well have been torture. Another man who was set on unsympathetically holding me still because he was told too. All of this they do to me so 'Erik' could force one needle after another into my skin!

 _This was his version of better. This was my version of Hell_ , and if I could just wake up from this nightmare, I would run, and run, and run, and I'd never look back! I'd run until me shoes filled with blood or my legs gave out and left me crippled, in which case I'd start to crawl.

But, of course, even trapped in the terror of this moment I knew that was a stupid hope. Hell is a place that never lets anything go once it has it in its grasp, why would it treat me any differently?

I, who I already established is someone about is important is the office gopher could think of no reason for me to be treated so special. But then again, I couldn't think of any reason for me to be here at all, held prisoner by a man I'd never met as my friends looked on and helped him?! There was no answer or logic for any of it, not even to the repetitive but simple 'why?' in my head.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

0847 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

?????

MERCENARY 

* * *

If I was completely honest with myself about it, and I am, the whole affair has left me with a disgusting taste in my mouth. Order or not, the fact that I followed it without question or not too, I just held down a woman as she screamed and begged me to have mercy on her, so a man, who she apparently knew, could shove a couple of needles she didn't want in her arm, and drug her, all the while is another man she also knew prior to all this looked on with a smirk.

I still have no idea who this woman is to this 'Loki' fellow, but one thing I'm sure of is her life is pretty messed up if this is the kind of thing her 'friends' do to her.

She used that word in her begging desperation, and she even called that smirking bastard of an agent her 'brother'!

I know that emotional investment is a  _very_  bad idea on any job, but if that's true that they are some kind of family, I am more than willing to hate let myself hate that S.H.I.E.L.D lackey a little.

I may be a mercenary, and because of that I can't judge him on the fact that I've done some pretty horrible things myself when under orders, even to women if that was what the order was. But as a regular man I can and will judge the hell out of him! He wasn't acting under orders if the rumor is true and that woman came in here bloody and looked at him with a kind of fear I'd rather not be able to recognize.

I don't need to hear an explanation for that. You don't do that to a woman, and you sure as hell don't do it one who calls you  _that_!

I also know, if I was given a choice I wouldn't even be having these thoughts, but it's kind of hard not to think about them when you're looking at their source.

After they filled her with painkillers they added sedatives so she would calm down, something she wouldn't have needed if she didn't have four men in a room forcefully drugging her in the first place, then the boss sent the other two out and told me my job from now on was to guard her.

I said "Yes sir" to the order without hesitation, while in my head all I could think was a never-ending stream of  _shit's_  because I can't think of a single way this is going to go well at all for me.  _I really hope she isn't the kind to wake up screaming._

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

0852 HOURS 

SECLUDED CABIN 

SANCTUARY 

* * *

NORA 

THE PICTURE OF CONTENTMENT 

* * *

My alarm was going off which was strange because I don't remember setting it, but then again I never do, because its impossible. My alarm is unusual, since it come complete with whiskers and a scratchy little tongue.

Jareth is once again trying his darndest to wake me up, no doubt so I will open the fridge for him, and he can fill that black hole he calls a stomach with the salmon paste he loves so much. He's being particularly persistent about it too today, which makes it very hard for me to resist the urge his tickling attention creates and continue to pretend I'm still asleep, but very worth the amusement it brings me.

My act finally fails as I make the mistake of trying to peek barely past my eyelashes and he notices them flutter. His efforts following that observation triple, and now instead of sniffing and rubbing against my cheek he switches to more effective tactics, and starts licking the inner shell of my ear!

"Ah! Okay! Okay! I'm awake, I surrender!" The way I sit up so quickly and try to bat away the sensation lingering from his tongue sends him toppling into the sheets, since he was standing on my shoulder when he launched that love attack on my ear. But he doesn't care. He's just happy he woke his mommy up at last. Once he manages to squirm around and get all his paws under him again he lets me know it, if that adorably loud purring is any indication.

 _Why'd he wake me up though anyways?_  That's the question in my mind as I absently rub the last evidence of the sleep out of my eyes. I mean, I know I'm his mama and I always give him everything he wants, but next to his papa I might as well be the female counterpart to Mr. Scrooge.

The answer to that question answers itself though when I notice the unoccupied space of the king sized mattress next to me.  _There was no papa for Jareth to bug._  He must have already gotten up for his early morning run and let me sleep in, which means little mister Jareth here had no choice but to beg for unnecessary treats from me, and it really is unnecessary too.

"I know he gave you something goofball, we both know he always does." He probably doesn't understand the words since he doesn't have the ability to speak English, but he's a smart little kitten nonetheless and knows what tones mean well enough, and he can tell that one might mean no treat for the kitty, which makes him even more adorably desperate.

Those little paws push themselves against my chest as he cranes his neck to look up at me, trying to climb higher and make it easier for me to see him is he starts breaking out into a chatty series of 'maw' with the occasional 'maw maw', and only grow in volume as I start to laugh.

"Ohhhh you..." My hands swooping in to scoop him up catches him a bit by surprise and allows me the opportunity to give his forehead an Eskimo kiss before he can get his bearings back, much to his annoyance. The next thing I feel is the pads of his paws try to push my face away before I consider unleashing round two on him, right before he lets out a sneeze that seems to have snuck up on him given his surprised expression, and makes me break into a fit of laughter yet again.

It leaves him thoroughly embarrassed. In fact I'm sure if he didn't have fur I'd see my little baby blushing from tip to tail. As it is he is hanging limply in my hand and wearing one of his adorably pathetic small animal pouts. "You poor, poor little neglected creature."

Hearing me coo at him seems to lift his spirits right back up though, as I can once again feel his purr vibrating through my hand as I pivot around on my butt to rise off the bed, and make a carriage for him with my other arm. That purring sensation triples when my other free hand occupies itself with scratching his under chin.

When he feels me shift from sitting to standing though being in my arm is no longer good enough for my little parrot and he scrambles up to perch on my shoulder, his little claws poking, but impressively not scratching at the skin the wide tank top strap doesn't cover. He's always been so good at that, my little navigator.

Padding my way through the house I actually enjoy the way the cool stone of the floor seeps into my soles and the texture of the carpet feels against my bare feet as I make my way toward the kitchen, my passenger making sure with excited little chirps of encouragement that I stay on course and don't get lost somehow in the long rectangle that is this rustic cottage.

I love this property. It's likesomething straight out of one of those 'I'll never afford this house' magazines. Its ten acres of undisturbed wilderness, dominated by pines and birch trees overlooking a decently sized lake with a view of the rolling mountain range beyond, and on days like today, a quick glance out the window confirming it, there is a blanket of fog that rolls across the lake and crawls its way up to our doorstep giving the landscape the illusion that the house is built on clouds!

The cottage itself was designed so it blends in right with the environment that surrounds it. Shale stone makes up the part of the floor that isn't carpeted and some of the walls, before mixing artfully with recycled bricks for the hearth of the fireplace, and polished river rocks for the cardinal corners of the cottage and pillars within.

The parts that aren't stone are stripped timber beams and lacquered boards I was told were cut from trees on this very property. There's also treated birch branches that have been used is decorations to really bring the ambiance of the forest inside, with the most notable being the ones framing the padded headboard of our bed and the night tables on either side.

It's really a marvelous building, and I love to spend time in its walls, but the same can just is easily be said of the yard. There's a small stone patio that also acts as the front porch despite its lack of a roof, with purple hostas, gladiolus, and yellow wildflowers growing on either side of the stone circumference, and a little iron and wood patio dining set that I make much use of in the warmer seasons.

My favorite part of the scene though, are the two sapling fruit trees standing like flanking sentries on the sides of the decorated paver stone path.

Those didn't come with the property, but one day, not even a week after we moved in I came home laden with paper bags full of treats from the farmers market to find him kneeling in the dirt and patting down the last bit of uneven soil before turning his face to me with a smirk on his smudged cheeks.

It was a gift that he said I couldn't turn down becuase they were already planted, and all I had to do to pay him back was make a pie with some of those apples I picked up.

I laughed so hard my cheeks hurt and I almost had tears in my eyes. I told him when he took one of the bags from me that he was a 'jerk' for not letting me help with that, but he simply shrugged it of with that charming grin of his is he plucked an apple out of the bag with a bit of a toss and sunk his teeth into it before saying "yeah but I'm your jerk, and you know you love 'em".

He's has always been so good to me like that, through everything we've been through together.

I can't help but muse how lucky I've been to find someone like that as I make myself a cup of the hot coffee he left waiting for me, yet another example of how true that statement of the way he treats me is.

He does all these things, and he never expects any sort of compensation for them, even if I insist on returning the favor. He just does them because that's 'the way a real man treats a lady' as he likes to say. He's never made any demands of me, or pushed me farther than I could go.

He stood by me through all those hard years as I struggled to overcome the biggest obstacle between us, as I realized there  _was_  an us, it just had something in the way that made it hard to see. Then once it was gone, he made his one and only demand of me.

He begged me not to say no, because it took him years to find the courage, and he wasn't sure he'd find it again.

He proposed. He wanted to marry me! Me, the girl with who couldn't be touched, who couldn't touch back!

The girl who found the courage to say yes! He was the first person I touched, the first skin I ever felt, really felt. Not some accidental brush in a hallway, but real touching! When it happened I held his hand for a half hour, just amazed at all the different textures and line I could feel in his skin, right down to the scars he thought I shouldn't have to look at and the mazes on his fingers!

I could feel that, and I was so happy, because I'd spent so long imagining what it would be like, and he didn't care that I was crying, because I was laughing and smiling because I could feel him! I can feel him now too.

The sound of the door closing and his boots landing on the floor informed me of his return, just like the soft tap of his feet on the floor is he crosses it and takes a flanking position behind me. I can feel his warmth radiate out off him and reach me a second before the rest of him joins it. The solidness of his bare arms wrapping around my shoulders and pull me gently against his chest into a hug, as he presses a kiss against the shell of my ear. His stubble tickles a little is his long brown hair sways into view for a second.

Then he just leans back and rests his chin on my head as he joins me, staring over the landscape of our wonderful little piece of paradise.

He doesn't mind that I'm quiet in these moments, just like I don't ever mind the cold press of his metal chain or how the dog tags on it always find a way to slip past the edge of my tank top and rest against my spine, because we're both content to enjoy the simple security that comes with it being a wonderful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS: I've left several teasing clues in the dream sequence Nora had, it shouldn't be very hard to figure who the party crasher is, and if you go to the Photobucket page for this chapter it should be even easier to figure out.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO

CHAPTER ELEVEN

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

0900 HOURS

KHURBA AIRPORT

KHABAROVSK KRAI, RUSSIA

* * *

NATASHA ROMANOFF

S.H.I.E.L.D ESPIONAGE AGENT, LEVEL SIX

* * *

Nadine Roman was the name I turned my attention too when I heard it called. I've had a lifetime of training to ingrain that skill into me, I can hear an alias once, less than once even, and still respond to it like it's really my name. Though this time I'm curious why I even am being called by it.

That alias, and the mission it was used for both died in tandem with a phone call and a mans dislocated hip so there is no purpose behind the S.H.I.E.L.D agent sent to rendezvous with me using it.

We both know he knows who I am, just like we both know I know who he is even is he goes through the motions of an introduction. Agent Felix Blake, a level six of the administrative variety.

That fact makes his presence out here in the field a little strange to me, but if the details I wasn't given in that short phone call with Agent Coulson are any indication, the entirety of S.H.I.E.L.D, not just myself, are caught up in a very strange situation right now.

We may have plans, protocols, and preventive measures in place for all sorts of situations, but even careful planning can't really prepare anyone for an end of the world scenario. Not even S.H.I.E.L.D. The best we can do is try to reach the top of the wave so we can see what's coming next.

My desire to reach the top of that wave is what keeps my feet going, right to the point that I don't bother pausing in front of him for some manner of unnecessary greeting but keep marching right past him knowing damn well he will follow once he reclaims the briefcase he made the mistake of setting down.

I have a 'big' problem in my immediate future, and I want to make it part of my past is soon is possible, so hollow pleasantry are not part of my social repertoire right now.

I have a 'smaller' problem that needs addressing to. I haven't heard our little birds voice yet. I know Nora well enough to know if it was a possibility for her, that she would right there at Coulson's shoulder, her voice asking in the background if I was okay, and if she could talk to me.

Even if Coulson has been deliberately vague on the details, he can't hide the absence of a detail like that. He also didn't try either, he wasn't making the call from a private area, which would make it impossible for her to insert herself into the conversation, instead he let himself have the background noise of other people around to clue me in.

He can't talk about it so he is telling me with subtlety. Something has happened to my 'little sister'.

We always knew she was different, the problem was we didn't know what exactly the difference was.

We knew that her muscular and cellular density, if allowed to reach peak conditions seemed capable of being three times our own, just like we knew that might have been a factor of her native environment. Her digestive system is much more efficient than ours, with a double duodenum and compartmentalized stomach connecting to her intestines lets it extract every ounce of organic material, leaving only the synthetic additions of modernism to turn into waste and that seems to be the reason for her high metabolism. Our food doesn't seem to be dense enough for her body.

The theory is that her digestive efficiency is a result of her 'native' environmentally based evolution, and if left up to the ways of nature her body would unable to sustain its required intake in 'our' environment. By our environment I mean the whole planet. We've looked, both in curiosity and caution for some pocket civilization of human evolution like her, hoping to find a terrestrial point of origin for her, or we had been until another one with a body like hers fell out of a wormhole in New Mexico!

And what I just mentioned are some the simpler differences. She has a slightly larger frontal lobe then we do despite no visual difference in the shape of her skull, is well is an extra lobe that we don't have at all cradling her pituitary gland that seems to be connected to her nerve-vessels.

That's the best description we have for them, they have hollow compartments and valves like one but their outer wall is wrapped in complex nerve tissue, with filaments inserted into the vessel themselves. They seem to transport some manner of liquid which we despite being able to see with a microscope can't seem to identify any cellular activity within, and if weren't for the fact that these veins run parallel to her real blood-vessels we might have assumed that was their purpose.

Anatomically her body has other 'redundancies' on top of those that seem to only exist to increase the durability of the species, the most notable are the twin sets of additional atriums and ventricles in her myocardial muscle that seem to only exist for the purpose of diverting circulation in the event damage to the heart.

She hasn't received any injury on that level under our care, and we lack the opportunity to compare her anatomy to any other member of her race, we only got lucky with some blood samples confiscated from a local hospital but we have to assume that given what we know of her would apply to the rest of her species and what we know is that her body literally seems to be able to reroute and compensate for what should be fatal wounds which makes her a very valuable, and very dangerous asset to us.

It's why she scares the World Council so much. Fury has managed to talk them into acknowledging and accepting her usefulness time and time again since she is the only specimen we know of that we have access to. Studying Thor, even 'if' he agreed to it, would probably cause an interdimensional war. Which is why we took advantage of her to let us evaluate the abilities and limitations of these so-called Gods in the event they do someday present a threat.

Though the 'God' part is a recent addition to us, because despite the mountain of yellowing files decorated in the uniform spacing typeface from an old IBM and the faded or water damaged horrors captured on a stack of Polaroids and 35mm film reels, we didn't believe 'their' assertion that she was a being originating beyond our solar-system.

Is far is we were concerned that conclusion was a result of their off-kilter fanaticism and religious zeal. Turns out those bastards were right about her, and that makes what they did to her that much worse. How do you Deify someone like that thenturn around and do those things to them?

That alone would have been enough to make me volunteer my expertise, if I wasn't already desperate for an assignment do to my forced medical leave. Clint had been assigned to her for a month at that point, interacting with her on a one on one basis to help her get used to the idea of human presence again. she was so terrified of people she couldn't even stand being in the same room with another human being back then, but already in that short period of time they were concerned Clint might have become emotionally compromised given the case involved work outside his field.

They were pushing Fury to put her back into a coma, and this time making it more of the permanent variety. That desire has never actually left them, despite their reluctant tolerance of her, but if she is missing like I'm worried she might be, that desire is going to rise back up so quickly it would but an addict to shame.

And the Council wasn't the only one to share that opinion about what to do with her. I know there were agents that ranked high enough to know about her uniqueness, and believed in that course of action. I always hated those people a little for that, I hated them for her sake.

She didn't know why they didn't like her, she couldn't know why! So instead, she just grinned and bared that pain is she tried to figure out what she did to offend them, and do things differently. I had to silently watch her suffer through every failed attempt to please them, and the part that always hurt the most was watching her finally give up in the face of their unrelenting prejudice and accept that they would always treat her is if she was something distasteful in their way.

She was told, and she believed that they disliked her because they viewed her is a burden on S.H.I.E.L.D! She no longer had the skills of the agent 'she was before', or the ability to relearn them, and had no knowledge left that would lead to the capture and sentencing of the people who killed her parents.

You can't teach combat to someone who is terrified of a handshake, even if they wish they could learn.

They made her feel guilty about the death of her 'parents', is if because she couldn't remember anything her mother and fathers souls were suffering in some sort of purgatory, waiting to avenged but it was her own inabilities that prevented that. I can't think of anything more cruel to do to a person then that!

This agent, jogging to catch up with me is one of those people. I have a memory of him looking down at her on multiple occasions is if she was gum on his shoe, and he really just wanted her to leave his sight.

I try to stay objective about things, but I still recall the sight of her bottling that heartache behind her pretty smile.  _She always tried so hard to please people, she didn't deserve what we put her through._

Which is why when he speaks to me like he is 'my' superior, uttering the full title of my alias "Deputy Consul-General Nadine Roman" like a reproachful parent and telling me to "wait, please" I turn on him abruptly.

I hadn't really looked at him until now, but his appearance just like his failed attempt to hide his flinch behind a façade of bored indifference is pathetic.

I will grant this prematurely gray specimen of a man, that we are in Russia. But this is the far eastern area of Russia, and its May. I'm in a cocktail dress with nylon stockings since they were torn in the fight. He is in, well, the best description I can come up with is an insulated cocoon.

_I hate my skill set sometimes._

Stepping into his space easily I don't even pay attention to the way his steps falter backwards a little before he catches himself and adjusts his posture, effectively bringing himself closer whether he meant it or not.

 _Goose down_ I muse is my fingers deftly find and conquer the double snaps on his tall collar, feeling the light prickle of tiny feather quills piercing through the weaving is I apply a bit of pressure against the material. I like him even less with this observation, it speaks of his softness is a field agent, and his sense of entitlement as a person. There are much more effective synthetic materials today to keep one warm.

The first button is conquered politely, with my fingers dancing to guide it through the hole. The second button though skitters of under someone's shoe is I lose my patience for a moment and simple yank the two sections apart, meeting his smirk with a darker and more dangerous one of my own.

I got what I wanted after all, so I see no more use in playing coy. With his phone in my hand I watch is his eyes widen then narrow at the observation is he watches me tuck it away down my bra. He can try to take it, if he wants to lose the use of his arms for a few months.

This man was an absolute fool if he thought I wouldn't know he planned to give me a device with limited clearance to keep me from getting the whole story. The possibility of believing in that success is so stupid I almost wonder if that was the point. I wouldn't put it beyond Coulson sending me someone who needed to be put in their place.

Which is also why I scoop up his briefcase, and drop it into the fountain, only to see his eyes widen once again, now with decided concern is it explodes into a small show of sparks is I play yet another part.

The technology in the briefcase was of course grounded and waterproof, but the tiny taserdisk I stuck to the handle of it wasn't, and that lit up and crackled like a firework on the fourth of July when the first drop of water hit it, drawing the attention of everyone to in the airport to the frightened looking woman calling for help and saying she thinks he has a bomb!

It's not helping him that his accent and overall grasp of the language is a terrible imitation of what a Russian one should be.

But 'Deputy Consul-General Nadine Roman' has a very good Russian accent for a French woman according to the nice men in airport security when they question her about the incident.

She was simply finishing up her work here and was on her way back to France, when her embassy called and said she was needed in India, Kolkata specifically, and yes she had the paperwork to verify that. It's why she was talking to that man in fact.

The embassy said they were sending a translator to aid her over in India, since she unfortunately doesn't speak that language is well, and no she had never seen this man before. But while they were talking she noticed a strange almost ticking sound that seemed to be coming from his briefcase so she pretended to hit on him to get the briefcase away from him and that's why she threw it in the fountain and immediately called for help.

They said she was very brave for doing that, and fetched her some vatrushka and keemun tea to eat while she calmed down. They also asked if she needed to reschedule her flight, or if there was anyone she wanted to call to go with her so she wouldn't be so scarred, and of course they would be happy to escort her the rest of the way through security to her flight.

They also promised to check out that name she gave them, because she was sure this man looked like someone on the international wanted list, a Robert Fisher she thinks the name was, and if he was they deserved the reward for being so nice and helpful.

They also appreciate how cooperative she was in providing her paperwork and couldn't help but admire the garter-esque wallet she pulled them from, and asked where she got it so they could get ones for their girlfriends.

 _I love my skill set sometimes._ Those two men walked Nadine all the way through the rest of security, continuing to praise the beauty and bravery of french woman, all the while strategically mentioning the girlfriends I knew they didn't have so is to not seem to eager.

I was very nice, and gave them each a kiss on the cheek before I boarded the small private plane. But once that hatch was behind closed me Nadine went away, and Natasha came right back out in less time than it took me to pull out agent Blake's former phone, and dial Coulson.

There is no greeting, nor is there any confusion about whose voice would be attached to this number, which is why I have always liked agent Coulson so much. He simply asks "What did you pin him for?"

"Murder, arson, and $100,000 I think." I offer back is I try to recall what exactly Robert W. Fisher is wanted for while I pull the Ipad out of its recessed spot in the wall next to me before I sit down and buckle in, giving the pilot a nod to tell him I'm ready for him to start the take off procedures.

"He is practicing his diplomatic immunity with airport security, if he can't handle this then you should fire him." I have no problem with the fact I just abandoned an agent on Russian soil, because someone will have to come get him eventually, since I stole and destroyed his secure device and he will have a hell of a time reaching S.H.I.E.L.D without them.

"I'll consider it." I can hear the curve of mouth in those three words, before it shifts into a neutral line that I can't see. "You'll be in the air for 6 hours, I recommend getting in some reading, there's a fascinating article about eagles you might like. Your team will be waiting for you when you touch down in Kolkata. Agent Romanov."

I offering back the same parting, then hear the sound of him hanging up. He didn't wish me good luck in my future encounter with the man who houses the monster, and I appreciate that. I'm not terribly superstitious, but I would feel like that would jinx the meeting.

I've seen the Hulk up close at Culver University, I know very well what sort of damage he can do, both to a building and a body. I'll accept any assistance from the universe to make sure I never see that part of that man again!

But I'm not going to focus on that. Coulson gave me something better than good luck, he gave me the password I need to let look up what I really want to know about. Our little bird is a divine eagle, and I have some studying to do on the Accipitridae family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS: Nadine Roman is one of the alias that the Black Widow used in the comics, so I pulled it for creative purposes.
> 
> Despite my best effort to find the Silinksy Plaza mentioned in the Avengers movie, I have come to the surrendering conclusion it does not exist, however I did find a Silinsky Park in KHABAROVSK KRAI, RUSSIA, which is why I placed Natasha there.
> 
> Robert W. Fisher was (and may still be) wanted for arson and murder in 2012, and was chosen do to his resemblance to the actor playing agent Blake.
> 
> The anatomy references I pulled from Star Trek if anyone reads the file names at the Photobucket.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware
> 
> Also this weekend is special treat for Halloween I'm posting two chapters, so after you are done with this one feel free to read thirteen. The coincidence of that number was unplanned but amusingly appreciated.

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER TWELVE 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1302 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA

* * *

"A wonderful...day." The words started out spoken in my dream, and faded into being spoken in reality, faltering on the last one with the realization that 'paradise' was only a cruel illusion built by my well-meaning subconscious to lose myself in, but would never last once my body has decided to open its eyes again.

 _I woke up._  That should be a good thought, or even just a neutral one. It shouldn't feel like I'm shattering under it, it's just waking up after all, it's just a thing that happens. But I was dreaming of a normal life, and woke up to the nightmare again.

I just want my life back! My boring, simple, makes the coffee and files the paperwork life back! My jokes with the scientists and agents life back! My goes home to tee-shirts and toe socks and a marathon of Rachel Ray with a notepad and a sharpened No.2 pencil in my lap life back! I want any kind of my life that doesn't involve me opening my eyes again and again to the sight of this damnable room!

I did that five times before I finally gave up, opening my eyes to disappointment, only to squeeze them tightly shut again, praying that next time would be the time that they saw something else. I just wanted the view to be kinder, beyond that I wasn't to concerned with what it was. "This isn't happening."

"Afraid it is, Miss."

I didn't say that sentence is a question for anyone but myself, nor did I expect any sort of response because subconsciously I assumed, in the manner that I didn't really even think about it until now, that I was alone in the room again. Which was a really assumption stupid of me, and once again my startled reaction reminds my body it was in pain.

"Sorry, didn't pure techt tae scaur ye." The voice is familiar, and so is the face. He's a Caucasian, with a masculine face, his facial features stronger and prouder than a woman's would be. His jaw is mostly a square one, up until the point of his chin that turns into more of an oval, and with the presence of his trimmed beard looks even smoother around the edges. Fitting with his prominent features is a wide-set mouth, and nose, but not so wide to look disproportionate to the rest of him.

He's also a brunette like me but his hair looks more on the darker end of the color scale. I'd also guess, given the part that isn't pulled flat by the fact it's in a ponytail, that his hair has somewhat of a natural curl to it.

He's dressed just like the other man I saw, in that he is dressed for combat. Camo pants, leather boots, a simple olive tee-shirt and a tactical vest with a camo jacket for warmth in this somewhat frigid place, and even more telling is the fact he has his pistol resting next to him on the table. If I thought, no, knew, it wouldn't end horribly I might actually consider that a possibility, taking that gun, but I don't want the punishment know it will earn me.

He must have noticed my eyes glance at it, or maybe he just decided to address the possibility before I did something that stupid because he speaks again. "It's print specific darlin." He informs me, grabbing it by the slide and turning it so I can see the fingerprint sensor built into the grip on the other side. "An' yoors ainae oan th' list."

My reaction is sort of an automatic one since this is the man whose rough hands wrestled me into a restraining hold so they could put their needles through my skin, and I just unintentionally gave him the idea I was gonna try to shot him with his own gun! So you really can't blame me for starting to plead and apologize out of self preserving fright!

"Hey..." his initial response to mine is sort of automatic too, his hand comes up and he stands, but the sight of me cowering and the sound of my whimper stops him from advancing further, and seems to suggest he was either told, or guessed about my condition. Either way he stops moving closer. " ...Hey, hey, hey. Relax, yer nae oan 'at list either. Ah ainae haur tae hurt ye."

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1304 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

?????

MERCENARY 

* * *

Well, I got my wish in terms of she didn't wake up screaming, even if she woke up much sooner than I expected but I don't really consider the stuttering fear any better. After her attempt to say 'right, yes, sure, of course. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply.' a 'sentence' which should only be twelve words, but she managed to make it sound more like thirty, I realized I needed a new tactic and quick.

"Jesus, yer a timid wee lass arenae ye loove?" She doesn't really answer that, at least not in the verbal sense, but her body language is definitely giving me one. I can see her shrink back a little into herself at the endearment before she offers me a tiny but agreeing nod, no doubt afraid that if she didn't I'd get upset. She has victim written all over her.

It doesn't make any sense, sure she's a tiny little woman and she came in here looking like she took on a lawnmower and lost in the severest sense of the word. But if the company she came in with is any indication, and it's nothard at all for me to recognize that insignia on his coat, she's connected to S.H.I.E.L.D somehow. Sure, she went through some levels of hell I'm not privy to the details of, but she's had more then enough time, and treatment to recover.

So the behavior I'm seeing is all wrong even as a front. The boss and the bastard would know better than to buy whatever it is she's trying to sell, but the thing is, and this part makes even less sense, I don't think it's fake.

"Well, till th' boss says otherwise, mah jobs tae guard ye, sae Ah shoods probably gie ye mah nam. Duncan Blackwuid, at yer service Miss...?"

"N-Nor-a Nora El-laine." The stutter isn't fading as quickly as I would like, but she does demonstrate some courage in a different way. She starts asking me questions. "Are y-you gonna h-hurt-t me a'agian?"  _Even if there questions I don't like._

I can feel the tug of a frown appear on my lips at that one specific word, but just shake my head gently for her. "If Ah did afair Ah apologize, but nae. Lang is ye dae whit yer supposed tae Ah willnae e'en hae tae tooch ye."

She nods, the motion more of a tiny vibration than an actually distinguishable movement, and as she does it her eyes flit around the room so quick it only makes the resemblance of a little bird I have forming in my mind seem that much more appropriate.  _Come on sweetheart, you need to calm down._  "A-An-d-and wha-t-t am I-I supp-po-posed to d-o?"

I leave her hanging on that question for a second, not because I'm trying to be mean or anything, I just have to remind myself that she is a mission, and you don't touch that. Figuratively or physically speaking.  _This one's lethal Duncan, you know better. The boss's woman always is._

Finally I open my eyes again and let out a shallow huff as I look at her only to remind myself given how pleading and hopeful she looks what a bad idea getting attached to her is.  _Don't do it, its a weakness._  Instead I reach out to the table at my side and let my hands wrap around the little white bottle of pills. "Take these..." I pause just long enough to nod in the direction of the bowl of fruit and glass of water next to her bed "...an' eat somethin'." Before I toss the container to land on the matress at her feet.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1305 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA

* * *

_I did something wrong, I think._  I'm not sure, but then again I am. His attitude changed, he didn't exactly get angry with me, the best term I can think of is 'short', he got short with me. The kind of attitude you get when something is bothering you, and you just want to get it over with.

I sort of want to apologize for whatever it was, but I'm not sure that's a good idea. It's so strange to be afraid of what an apology might bring, but I am afraid. I don't want to do anything wrong again, I don't want 'that' to happen again.

I'll do anything to keep it from happening again. Even take the drugs that they want to give me without question. Even if I don't know what they are.

That mystery is cleared up a little as I lean forward, as much as my body will let me at least in the painfully stiff state it is. Then, since it is still not quite in reach I let my fingertips roll the container back until I can pick it up. The label on the bottle says it is Demerol, and it might really be, or they just want me to think it is. Not that it matters, and not that I have time to think about it anymore.

I can hear the door opening, and now all I'm thinking is  _please no_  because  _he_  looks angry!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR READERS: My previously unnamed mercenary is Scottish and therefore speaks with a Scottish accent for authenticity, but fear not, I will offer translations.
> 
> IN STORY: "Sorry, didn't pure techt tae scaur ye."
> 
> TRANSLATION: Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.
> 
> IN STORY: "An' yoors ainae oan th' list."
> 
> TRANSLATION: And yours ain't on the list.
> 
> IN STORY: "Hey, hey, hey. Relax, yer nae oan 'at listi either. Ah ainae haur tae hurt ye."
> 
> TRANSLATION: Hey, hey, hey, relax your not on that list either. I ain't here to hurt you.
> 
> IN STORY: "Well, till th' boss says otherwise, mah jobs tae guard ye, sae Ah shoods probably gie ye mah nam. Duncan Blackwuid, at yer service Miss...?"
> 
> TRANSLATION: Well, till the boss says otherwise, my jobs to guard you, so I should probably give you my name. Duncan Blackwood, at your service Miss...?
> 
> IN STORY: "If Ah did afair Ah apologize, but nae. Lang is ye dae whit yer supposed tae Ah willnae e'en hae tae tooch ye."
> 
> TRANSLATION: If I did before I apologize, but no. Long is you do what your supposed to I will not even have to touch you.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

1306 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

DUNCAN

MERCENARY

* * *

"I thought I told you to send for me when she woke up?" I knew right away when he came in, with the way his quick pace stopped the same time his eyes found her awake that I was going to be in trouble; and the frown that was forming when he took his eyes off her and finally turned them to me just confirmed it even more.

"Yoo did sairrr." I reply back just is quick, not bothering with an apology since I know damn well it didn't do that other poor bastard any good, and going straight for the explanation route. "She jist woke up. Ah thocht Ah shoods make sure she took th' medicine ye left afair Ah sent someain tae git ye."

I expected a response to that, especially since I could see the edge of that frown grow into something more of a scowl, but it wasn't his voice that spoke out when he started to open his mouth. "E-Ex-cuse me, M-Mister Blackwood?"It was hers.

 _What is she doing? Asking for me now?!_  I almost want to say she is trying to get me in trouble. It doesn't take a genius after all to realize this guy is just is possessive is he is unstable, and I know she knows that too.  _There's no way she can't after what he had us do to her earlier, so why would she ask for me in front of him unless she is..._

"I-I kn-now I a-a-sked t-to do it my-mself, a-and I re-really a-ap-prec-i-iate it, but..." at this point she holds up the little bottle is she drops her face in shame. "...I, I...my h-han-ands st-till..." and doesn't even finish the sentence, but the glisten of a tear she wipes away does it sufficiently enough.

 _...trying to help me?!_  I think she is, in fact I'm pretty damn sure that's what she's doing. She didn't ask me that question, or any question except if I was gonna hurt her or not. She's trying to protect me from him by drawing the attention to herself and making me sound like I treated her well, not that I didn't, but she is making it sound better than it was.

She is gambling on the idea that he might not to want to let things get violent in front of her.  _You stupid girl, if this backfires it's going to burn you first, and you know it!_

But it's out of my hands, because it looks like it worked. " I will take care of that. You may leave now." and there is nothing I can say but yes sir and accept that clipped dismissal, walking out of the room before he has the chance to change his mind about letting me go, and leaving her to whatever fate she receives once that door shuts her in there with him. _Dammit._

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

1308 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

SELFLESS CAPTIVE

* * *

_Don't call him back Nora, don't call him back. You said that so he wouldn't get punished, so don't call him back!_  It's true, even if I'm not really sure what my reason for that was. It isn't like I owe the man anything, or even that I can say I like him at all. Sure he was polite and patient with me just now and I suppose that counts as being nice, but he was also the man who bear hugged me earlier so they could stick those needles in my arm!

I guess I just don't want anyone to get hurt because of me, especially over something that really isn't really worth it. Thinking like this is why I always knew I would never be much of an agent, not like the one they told me I used to be; wanting and trying to protect everyone sounds like something noble and good, until it evolves beyond a theory. It can't be done, and in a world like S.H.I.E.L.D's it almost shouldn't be done. Trying to do that sometimesmeans you can't bring everyone home, or they can't bring you home.

Acceptable losses, I know what those are. You have the knowledge in your head, but you really don't understand. I should have let Duncan have whatever the man holding me captive was thinking of doing to him, but I interfered because I am just too soft. I've always felt like losing anything was one loss to many.

"May I?" It's why I can't stop the gasp that escapes when my ears hear those two words, even though I knew they would be coming eventually.  _I'm too soft, I'm too scared._

"Shh..." He soothes, leaving me to realize thankfully that he seems to have drifted back into the role of the gentle caretaker. "...It is alright, let me get that for you." He makes it sound like he is 'asking' permission, but it isn't really a question as he doesn't even give me a chance to answer before I feel the first delicate brush of his leather-covered fingers across my naked ones.

I don't resist him this time, nor do I let myself give in completely to my urge to flinch away. I may not be a genius, but that never stopped me from picking up on things quickly enough, and I already learned the penalty for upsetting this man. He made that lesson very clear.

Still, it wouldn't be a proper phobia if I could control it all the way. Once the pill bottle is out of my hands I can't help but pull them back, cradling them almost defensively in front of my chest, with the burnt one shielded behind its opposite. And he wouldn't be himself if he didn't seem to realize the implications behind that gesture.

He says nothing about it though despite the brief arching of his eyebrow. I think it's so he doesn't embarrass me with the observation. Which is really considerate of him, and I do appreciate it, but it's also very unnecessary because it's quite clear what I am here. I'm not a guest here; I'm a prisoner in a very nice cage.

He goes through the motions of shaking out the correct number of pills for me, checking the label briefly to make sure, before he finishes recapping the container. Then, holding the pills in one hand he takes the glass of water in the other and 'offers' them both to me.

I don't refuse him either, I don't even consider it this time. This man is that frightening to me now. I would whether to take something even if I can't confirm what it really is than do anything to make him so much is frown at this point. It's just like I'm back there at the beginning, 'waking up' all over again, surrounded by strange people with strange motives and in a strange place.

My fingers flinch back from the first brush, almost like they expected some sort of painful shock to come from touching his leather glove, and while they turned out to be wrong about the sensation being the usual electric pain they were surprised by the fact that his hand felt cold!

Even through the leather barrier on his hands the temperature difference was pronounced. Either he had been outside for to long and it was cold wherever we were, or I am running a fever. Both hypotheses are concerning to me because unless my guess on the time of day is wrong it should be hot outside, and secondly because if I have a fever it means I'm sick for the first time in my life, and if I am sick it means I'm going to become weaker. I don't want to be weak here, I can't!

With the second touch I don't flinch back, due to sheer will power, but they still tremble as I take the pills between my fingers. My effort earns me a bit of a sad smile from him, but I accept it because I think it's still better than a frown, much better actually.  _Pity is always better than pissed off, right?_

If I wanted him to pity me my next action seems to follow that plan precisely as my other hand takes hold of the water glass, causing the liquid in it starts to ripple toward the center. I try not to dwell on that particular detail because even if I tell myself it's what I want it still makes me feel terribly ashamed.

 _You're one of the strongest people I know._  That sentence meant so much to me in my dream, but out here in reality it loses all its weight. Yes, it's something that boosts my courage a little, but it isn't what I really want right now. I want more than the memory of words in my head to make me strong, I want someone to come and be strong for me!

I've conquered every obstacle that stood in my way in the past, both from my phobia and my amnesia. This time it's different though because this time it's a person, and I have no idea how to conquer that. Mantra's, repetition, and mental exercises won't make this obstacle go away.

The first question he expects me to answer doesn't come until after he takes back the empty glass. He politely waited until I finished taking the pills, and downed the water first. He even waited as I made sure I drank every drop, not because I was that thirsty, but just because I was being nervously thorough and stalling a little.

"Are you aware of who I am?" It's a normal enough question, there isn't really anything special or unusual about it. Except that I'm paranoid it's going to get me killed if I answer it wrong. Not that I have any idea what he would consider a right answer, I mean I either tell him the truth and say no I don't have a clue who he is, and it makes him upset or I lie to him and say yes only for him to ask me to prove it and then get really upset when I can't backup my claim.

So I suck it up and shrink back into myself in preparation as I let out a tiny "No. H-He did-didn't say." And pray for whatever he does to be over quickly.

"Are you certain of that?" It wasn't a response I could say I expected at all, but I've begun to realize that this man is just as likely if not more likely to do the unexpected. So by that logic his unusual question in response and the bemused smirk that goes with it aren't that surprising, but it still makes me feel terribly uncomfortable as I make myself nod my head yes.

"How strange then that I have already heard you speak my name." This time the unexpected response is really a surprise, and my eyes move to meet his in alarm, as my mouth starts to dispute it "No, I..." before my memory betrays me suddenly and sides with him.

I did say his name! I was crying, or more like I was begging then, and was saying anything I could think of to make them stop attacking me! I was trying to get through to Erik, or Duncan whose name I didn't even know at the time. I was even trying to get through to Clint which only made him smirk at me, before it eventually turned into a sneer because I was so pathetic it was annoying him! And I even tried to persuade... _Loki_.

I begged him, half screaming and sobbing is I swore up and down that I would do whatever he wanted if he just made them stop touching me, and I used his name! A name no one told me, that went with a man I've never met. A name I shouldn't have known... _so how did I know his name? Did I hear it and just not realize it?_

No, I know I didn't, so how would I know an Asgardians name?  _Erik. I know Erik. Of course, Erik told me._

He talked about Thor and Asgard all the time. Finding Thor, a homeless man in the desert ranting about realms and bridges and puny mortals before his young friend Darcy tazed him. Then Miss Foster taking him to the hospital, and the subsequent rescue from the hospital that involved running him over again. The man's strange behavior involving coffee cups and potential insanity. The encounter with S.H.I.E.L.D that put all four of them on our radar. The arrival of the Warriors Three, Lady Sif, and the Destroyer that followed.

He told me about all of that, and more. He talked about the myths, and the things he saw that backed them up, as well as theories on what else might be true. These discussions were always full of details too. I had all that knowledge in my head, I just wasn't thinking about it at the time, but I must have noticed something about him that made me guess who he was. I was just too caught up in my panic to realize what I was saying.

And, as stupid as I would be to not be able to think around him, I almost want that mind numbing lack of focus to come back. I mean it's one thing to be held captive by a man, but Loki, son of Odin, son of Frigga, brother of Thor. Loki. Prince of Asgard. Loki. The trickster. Loki. It is entirely different when you're being held captive by a God.

"Y-Yo-You're-re..." My stutter is interrupted by another of those dull twinges of discomfort, but this time it blessedly isn't followed by an episode. "...Lo-Loki, of A-Asgard?!"

"The very same." The way he says it, it's clearly a mark of pride. I can almost see the bow that should and would accompany it if he wasn't sitting down. I remember thinking he held himself almost regally before, but I never imagined I'd be so right! I can't stop the nervous swallow that follows that confirmation this time.  _I'm being held captive by A GOD, oh god I'm going to die!_

I can see that my reaction makes his smile dip into a bit more of a frown, but I no longer have the ability to care much about that. If I had asthma, I would say I was having an attack, and if I'd eaten something I might think I was having a sulfate reaction but even without either of those I can't manage catch my breath!

I think I might be having another anxiety attack!

"Breathe child..." A tiny part of me wants to tell him I look about the same age as he does but that word, God, is still echoing in my head and shuts me up before I follow through with that stupidity. If he really as is old is I think, then being called 'child' is probably much more respectful than what our real age comparison might be. So instead I just make myself nod, and do my best to follow his advice. "...you will be fine, just breathe through it, as you did before."

It takes me a second, but I finally manage to win against the panic attack, on a wave of sheer willpower alone. I just couldn't let myself lose to it. I couldn't risk the chance that this one might be a serious enough one to make me faint!

 _I can't faint in front of a God, it would make me look bad!_  That thought isn't so much a matter of pride or shame as it is my desperate attempt at a much needed excuse to convince my body to listen to me! It doesn't have to be a good excuse, it just needs to exist.

"I-I'm s-sorry..." I force the smile even though I know it's weak, but I do it anyways is I give him an explanation for my reaction. "...This is j-just a lot t-to ta-take in." He returns my effort with a gentlesmile of his own, and while his less forced than mine, I can't help but notice it still seems to lack something.

"I understand. You have been through quite a bit, and the situation is considerably less than normal."  _Less than normal?_  I have to bite back the bout of hysterical laughter that threatens to come out at those words. I don't see how this situation could even be considered in the same universe as normal! It's yet further proof why I just wouldn't be a good agent. They deal with 'less than normal' all the time and they barely bat an eye!

"I-I just..."  _It's only fear Nora, fear can't hurt you, you know that. You'll be okay, it's only fear._  It's amazing what lying to yourself can accomplish, and what it can't. I'm trying to work up something that looks like courage, but it just keeps getting swept back under the tidal wave of fear. "...I don't understand..."  _Because once I say these words to him, it's gonna make everything that's happening real. I'll lose any chance I have of hanging on to the bliss and security of ignorance._  "...What do you want with me?"

"What I want from you, Arnora" He stop, just because his focus turns to reaching for a piece of fruit, which involves him leaning over me a little, and mine turns to not trying to back up right off this bed to get away from him! "is the chance to make you whole again." But after hearing that part, the pain of falling off the bed almost seems worth it.

"A-Arn-nora?" I knew the reply I'd get even as I said that strange name back to him. "It is your name, your real name. Arnora Dagnysdottir."

"No..." Except it isn't my name. Its close, the only difference being two extra letters that he tacked on the front.  _It's got to be a mistake, he thinks I am someone else! He wanted someone else!_  That thought is relieving and terrifying for the same reason. He doesn't really want me, so what's he going to do with me then when he realizes Im not 'her'?

"...That's not my name. My names Nora, Nora Elaine. I'm not her, the one you want." but I keep pushing forward because is frightening is the thoughts of what he might do to me for not being the one he wants, they aren't is scary is the chance that I am.

His reaction is a strange one; he smiles softly, but it's a sad sort of smile, and it seems to be directed at the apple in his hand more than me for a moment as he lets his thumb polish away a dull spot on it's perfect skin. "You think I have made a mistake then. That we do not in fact know each other?"

"I-I..." I swallow the stutter because I know this is a moment I really have to put strength behind my words, I have to speak with conviction, and own them, or I'll never make him believe me. "...Yes."

I deliver that word perfectly. But he still manages to rips the world back out from under me with a series of his own. "What is your proof?"

"They told you that too." The sentence starts with a surprised inhale, and ends with a disappointed sigh. Of course they did. I should have known they would tell him. They told him about my phobia, so why wouldn't they tell him about my amnesia too.

I was on an assignment when it happened, they told me that part. They told me what they could. My team was unique because my team was my family. Most people join S.H.I.E.L.D, not a lot are born and raised in it, but I was. Both my parents were agents when I was conceived and I was raised on S.H.I.E.L.D base after S.H.I.E.L.D base until I was  old enough to be an agent myself. That's why we got the assignments we did. Who better to pass is a family than a family?

It was an RPG in Bangkok on New Year's Eve back at the end of 2006, it was an exploding car with them inside and me reaching for the door. It was me, thrown by the force of the explosion, and lying on a pile of rubble with blood seeping from the back of my cracked skull. It was Clint defying his orders and breaking his own cover on a nearby assignment to find and carry my unconscious body to safety.

It was 'Clint' who told him all that too I bet. Not my Clint though. My Clint would never have said anything to him, my Clint wouldn't even tell me all the details after all because he knew it would only hurt me in the long run. We even fought about that once. He only ever told me what I needed to know, but because it was a S.H.I.E.L.D assignment, and one that failed, 'it never happened'.

It was classified information by the time I woke up. What the assignment was, what we were after, who we were after, who we pissed off and who we were. The whole thing was nothing but black REDACTED bars.

My parents didn't just die, they 'never existed', I 'never existed'. S.H.I.E.L.D wipes you right out of reality if you die in the field on a failed Op, that's part of the agreement; you and what killed you never happened. If you're lucky, if you died well enough you get to keep one little piece of yourself and your name goes on a wall that only S.H.I.E.L.D gets to see. We got that much at least.

So I 'died' is far is the world was concerned, and spent almost three years in a coma, only to wake up with nothing. I didn't have a name or a past, not just because S.H.E.I.L.D got rid of it, but because the head trauma did as well.

I have no proof, because I have no memory beyond the day I woke up in a hospital bed, confused, afraid, and surrounded by hands.

"Do not fault them for doing their job, my dear." My expression must have told him what I was thinking or maybe he simply guessed. The thing is, either way he is wrong about it, I don't blame them, 'Clint' or 'Erik'. I blame him. I don't care if they told him really, but I care that he would use that information against me like this!

He is cruel for turning my suffering and misfortune to his own gain, and if I blamed anyone for how I feel right now, it would most definitely be him.

Its not as if I could ever tell him that though so instead I tell him the only safe thing I can think of, "I don't." A simple lie of omission "I should have known they did." And a truth. "But I, I still don't know you." And a risk.

"You sound so sure..." He leaves it hanging, waiting for me to fill the silence with the reasons behind my argument. "Well, I, I...you're a Prince." He still remains silent despite that attempt, but his lip does lift up a bit at the corner with the last word "From another..." I use the word "...realm." recalling Erik's voice telling me the vikings called them that instead of planet. "S.H.I.E.L.D would have told me if I knew a... " I deliberately do not use the word alien to avoid the risk of offending him and go instead with "...man from another world."

And still the silence continues from him, now though it happens without his gentle smirk to give me some confidence, and for the life of me I almost wish it would come back. I'm looking for any kind of reaction from him, just something, anything that I can judge his what his thoughts are at this point.

I was too focused on his face though. I'd been watching as he turned it to the side and let his eyes close, shaking his head softly, then I felt his fingers, no longer shielded in leather despite me seeing him make no motion that could have removed them, wrap their way around my wrist.

The grip is terrifyingly gentle, and unbearably secure. I know because my immediate reaction is to try to pull back from it; its skin on my skin! My body 'knows' that it's going to cause me pain, and result in horrible things! It's absolutely sure of it, it knows it will come, even if my mind 'knows' there shouldn't be anything painful about being touched.

After all, I'm touching him back. The hand he isn't restraining as wrapped around his other one, because it is tenderly cupped around the back of my neck, denying my retreat even more than the headboard already was!

My frantic "Please!" is interrupted by his soft order of "Look at me."

My eyes don't even consider denying him, in some sort of desperate hope that if I do what he wants he will just let me go!

But I'm so wrong. I know it as I feel his thumb trace an old scar below my wrist.

I know it more as he leans forward; ignoring my tiny whimper as he presses a kiss to the top of my head. I can feel effects invading my chest, its bony fingers crushing my lungs in their grasps, and those ghostly talons seek their way into my heart to spread their poison to the rest on me!

I know it more when my mind overcomes the delay and registers the words he whispered before he stood up, and walked away from me, taking that suffocating phantom with him and letting the air back in the room so I can at least breath is I relax into a creature of trembles.

"No kjære, a man...from yours." he said and when I remember how to make my mouth and tongue work to form words, the only word I can manage is "No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS: The event I mention in Bangkok is a real event. If You Google "2006 Bangkok bombings" it will take you to the Wikipedia page. The death toll in that event is three, not including the injured of course. I am using the even for creative purposes only and apologize if anyone reading this is offended by my use of it or connected to the real event.
> 
> So, is it stands now Nora's list of conditions include her Amnesia, her Phobia to touch (Haphephobia is the official name if you were wondering), and her sulfate allergy. The sulfate allergy is less important than the other two but it will be explained later on in the story.
> 
> Translations of Duncan Blackwoods Scottish accent.
> 
> IN STORY: "Yoo did sairrr."
> 
> TRANSLATION: You did sir.
> 
> IN STORY: "She jist woke up. Ah thocht Ah shoods make sure she took th' medicine ye left afair Ah sent someain tae git ye."
> 
> TRANSLATION: She just woke up. I thought I should make sure she took the medicine you left before I sent someone to get you.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1322 HOURS 

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER 

INTERNATIONAL WATERS OUTSIDE OF VIRGINIA, USA 

* * *

PHILLIP COULSON

* * *

Seventeen and a half hours since the declaration of war, and I find myself here, standing on the bridge of the Helicarrier watching the landscape around Norfolk Naval Base drift by and disappear out of my peripheral.

We are driving it out to sea first, because the sight of an aircraft carrier floating in the sky near Washington would be every conspiracy theorist's wet dream, and every normal persons nightmare.

The process of getting the carrier out of dry dock went a lot smoother what with both Director Fury and Councilman Pierce stressing the importance of its use in this situation, which I was grateful for because I would prefer not to deal with the Council myself. They tend to look down on Agents playing is Fury's messengers.

However finding Councilman Pierce waiting for me to arrive was a bit of a surprise. Despite our proximity to Washington DC I assumed he would have joined the other members of the World Council and taken refuge in the sky. His response when I mentioned that was that he has never been a fan of keeping his hands clean.

Then he asked about 'her' and for once I didn't have to or want to keep my mouth shut. Miss Elaine has never had a friend on the Council, their reaction to her, before they were made to see reason, has always been harsh, with exception of Councilman Pierce. If there was anyone on the Council who could be said to at least like her, it would be him.

He understood the importance of her presence within S.H.I.E.L.D custody, and shared the Directors opinion of treating her with leniency and courtesy. She could very well become a valuable ally to S.H.I.E.L.D someday, rather is an agent, or an ambassador between our different races.

She has spent her 'known' life living is a human being, the logic was that either way that would make her very much a friend to the human race, is long is we continued to see she was treated well and not like a lab rat.

He even took the initiative a few times to become an acquaintance of hers. He formally thanked her for the sacrifice that both she and her 'family' made in the service of S.H.I.E.L.D, playing on the lie we made to keep her here. A distasteful necessity by all accounts.

Which was why I was surprised when he asked me what I thought we might be able to use to take her out.

He told me his view on her had not changed, he still thought she would be a very valuable asset and ally to S.H.I.E.L.D someday however the truth of the matter was that we still had no idea what she would be capable of, but a despot Prince just came down and declared war on the planet, then immediately following that threat, took their best assassin and went out his way to take her too.

We have to assume that there is a reason behind that, the kind that suggests he plans to use her to his advantage, and very likely against us. He knows something about her we don't, and that is too dangerous to ignore.

He wanted to talk to me because aside from Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff, I was her superior officer most of the time.

I killed a small a piece of me for the sake of the world I live in and I recommended a precisely measured dose of Tabun since 'they' used to use it to control her, and if he really wanted her back alive to tell whoever he sent after her to carry auto-injectors with atropine because we made sure she was kept weak to further the illusion of her being a human being.

I told him all of that, and then I got a call from Natasha, someone who treats Nora like her little sister, and if I know Agent Romanoff she is probably reading that information right now, since I told her how to get access to it.

 _I really hope we don't have to kill her._  I always knew just what she wasn't. I read the files before I even set foot in her presence. She was never a human in my mind, thought I will admit, that she was the most human, not human person I ever met. Certainly much more than Thor. She was, is, so much like a child.

It's why I didn't have any real hesitation about authorizing her friendship with the Captain.

When I heard about him trying to track her down and eventually finding her in the cafeteria I wasted no time making sure she was in my office at the end of the day. I made it very clear, that Captain America was a national symbol and a hero so he was to be treated with respect and carefully since he was in the middle of what would no doubt be a difficult transition into modern-day life. She looked me right in the eye and told  _me_  that his name was Steve Rogers.

I might be one of the biggest fans of Captain America, but right in that instance she put me to shame. She saw him is more of a person, and less of an ideal then I did. After that I knew she would be just perfect for him, and she never proved me wrong.

That decision was paid for with every surveillance picture I saw of him smiling in her company, and I made sure that nothing got in the way of that happiness, right down to adjusting her housing privileges so she could keep an orphaned kitten he gave her, and enduring the muted wrath of Council when my name also showed up on a roommate authorization form when he moved into her guest room for a few weeks so she could sleep through the kittens hungry cries until it was weaned off milk.

She gave me a picture of them, the captain and that kitten. He was sleeping, and its little body was tucked right up under his chin. She wrote 'thanks uncle Coulson' on the back of the picture and drew a smiley face with cat lips and ears.

I framed that picture, it was a really nice frame too. I even bought a collar with American flags on it for the kitten, and ordered on of the techs to make charm for it, on side was the Captain's shield, and the other side was the S.H.I.E.L.D logo. It's actually still in my pocket right now. _I really hope we don't have to kill her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS: 
> 
> Tabun is a real life Nerve agent, it was made an industrial scale during WWII by the Germans, and Atropine is a treatment for it. 
> 
> Norfolk Naval Base is a base that really exists in Washington D.C, and houses Aircraft carriers. It seemed a logical place for them to dock the Helicarrier at given its the capital, is well is so close to the Triskelion, which is labeled S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters after all.
> 
> Also while it is true we don't see the Triskelion, or Alexander Pierce until the Winter Soldier which is three movies down the line, there is absolutely no reason they can't be in here. He clearly must have been alive and around back then, and I doubt they built the Triskelion after the battle of New York given that S.H.I.E.L.D's attention was occupied by their new found publicity.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

1447 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

LOKI

* * *

I am not sure which is worse: what  _my_  youthful stupidity, and  _Asgard's_  idle support of the All-Father's unnecessarily cruel judgment did to her; what a groups grandiose intentions and a  _man_  who has the luck of no longer existing and thereby escape my wrath for what they did to her; or what S.H.I.E.L.D would still be doing to her if they had half a chance.

I had sought out Agent Barton, to discuss what steps would be necessary to advance my cause, and cease this distasteful burrowing existence I find myself enduring. I must say that after hearing him speak his mind, despite the fact he had the misfortune of being born into the inferior shell of a mortal body, his input was rather creative and really leaves me wondering how he ever managed to keep up the persona of being a good man.

Those thoughts had to have come from somewhere after all.

Certainly his suggestions of what he thought we should do to one Dr Heinrich Schafer were quite morbid, but I think they will work wonderfully to accomplish what I desire. It does not take much to create chaos if you properly execute the display.

It will definitely hold their attention and at the very least I can extract a little vengeance on that name, sadly thoughthe original carrier is long since dead and free of my retribution for his part in her suffering.

After I was done speaking to Agent Barton I decided to speak to my other servant. Slave would perhaps seem the more appropriate term, but the scepter does truthfully not deprive them of their own will so much as sway it to my service.

He told me in unexpectedly great detail what S.H.I.E.L.D did to her while she was in their possession, and what  _they_  had been done to her before. Had this new information not made me realize just how much I could use him I might have executed him right there just for speaking those words.

They have been putting poison in her veins! They have been giving her frequent injections of a compound designed to trigger apoptosis in its infected cells! A technique they apparently borrowed from  _Them._  They have been tricking her body into quickening the rate which her cells die so they could keep her weak. It is no wonder she thinks herself human, they reduced her to that point!

I do not know if I should be grateful or furious that they calculated her dosage so precisely that they  _only_  caused minor cellular atrophy. While I am glad she still has all her limbs and muscle control the truth is the mortals would have had to experiment on her with different amounts to find the right one; they put her life at risk just to make her controllable!

Even more infuriating still is the fact that she does not seem to know this so she thinks that they are more her allies than I am!

If it were not for the fact I am now hold her sleeping in my lap I would likely see no reason not to give in to my urges and put a hole in this wall beside me.

I came back to the room more upset then when I had left which was arguably not the best of ideas, but I am very glad I did. I found her unconscious, caught up in a feverish sweat, with the little creature now awake and cradled near her face as it meowed with concern and tried to rouse her by licking her cheek.

She over-medicated herself to escape what she must find an unpleasant reality, that was clear enough given that even unconsciousness did not make her release the bottle of pills in her grasp.

I had clearly miscalculated. I accounted for the fact that when I told her the truth it would be a bit traumatic for her but I did not think though that she would retreat from it so quickly. I expected her to handle it a little better, to be a bit stronger despite the show of fear I have received so far.

I judged her on the standard of strength I recalled from the last time I rested my eyes on her.

That was unfair and foolish of me to do. Who would not seem strong when they faced their foes with fury and righteous reason behind them?

I wasted no time in checking on her when I saw the state she was in, sending the guard I appointed to summon the doctors while I checked her pulse and breathing personally, finding myself surprised and distressed by the fact she did not seem to register my touch.

Now though, she rests peacefully enough and I am no longer so concerned. The doctor told me she is in no real danger. The side effects of the medication we have given her for the pain account for her slumber and sweat. She may have taken much more than she should, but not nearly enough to threaten her life.

Even the little beast she keeps with such affection seems relieved. It showed quite a bit of bravery and stupidity when I approached its mistress. It hissed a warning at me, determined, despite its obvious injuries or because of them, to defend her from all of those with ill intentions.

Now that it has realizes that I too want to help return his mistress to health it has warmed up to me considerably. Idly licking at my fingers when I offer them to it, and purring softly under my caress from where it rests on her chest, waiting longingly for her to open her eyes again.

It is a loyal little creature to be sure, but then, I cannot recall a time when an animal was not naturally inclined to be affectionate toward her. That quality in her actually served my purposes rather well once.

Those thoughts of the past bring a bit of a rueful smile to my lips as I dip the damp cloth back in the bowl of water, and let my skin cool it, before returning to the task of overcoming this fever in her flesh.

_I do have so much to make up for._

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

1544 HOURS

NETAJI SUBHASH CHANDRA BOSE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

KOLKATA, INDIA

* * *

NATASHA

* * *

When Coulson gave me access to the knowledge I wanted I also got access to the knowledge I needed, mainly why the Director would send me to retrieve one of the only men on the planet I am admittedly afraid of, knowing full well that I fear no man.

The loose the Tesseract to enemy hands.

The COMPLETE destruction of the P.E.G.A.S.U.S base.

The loss of our lead scientist on the subject, and Clint.

A body count of 63, with 29 being non U.S citizens on loan for other countries, and an indeterminate amount of additional dead that are either body parts or ash piles.

The need for the uninjured to be quarantined and undergo a full psychological exam, and radiation testing to make sure they aren't secretly acting as a Double Agent for the Terrorist, and haven't suffered gamma exposure before returning to active duty.

And a set of wanted posters, one of them with her face on it.

That last part I got rather hung up on for a while. I knew I would find one with Clint's face on it, but I wasn't completely prepared to find one for her too.

Nora has never been anything but loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D, we gave her, or guilted her into every reason to be. The idea that we might now raise our weapons against her, I can't imagine what that would do to her and she wouldn't even understand why.

I helped with that ignorance, which was why after I finished reading what S.H.I.E.L.D knew, I started trying to find information of my own. I ran what facial searches I could with the device in my hand, and started looking for anything that matched habits I knew Clint had, unlikely as that success may be. I couldn't sit idly for the six-hour flight, not while the people that mattered to me were out there and in danger.

But then the plane landed and I had to shut that side of me off for the time being. I couldn't multitask this mission, I knew that much about myself.

To bring in the host of the Hulk demanded my complete focus, because if I didn't do this perfectly I wasn't going to have feet left to walk out of Kolkata.

That means I need to make the situation very clear to the unfortunate men we chose for this mission, chosen only because they were already in the area of the target, even if their skill set came into the decision-making process. We aren't going after a man. Were going after a monster of war.

But then the plane landed and I had to shut that side of me off for the time being. I couldn't multitask this mission, I knew that much about myself.

To bring in the host of the Hulk demanded my complete focus, because I might be walking in but if I didn't do this perfectly I wasn't going to have the feet left to walk out of Kolkata.

That means I need to make the situation very clear to the unfortunate men we chose for this mission, chosen only because they were already in the vicinity of the target, even if their skill set came into the decision-making process. We aren't going after a man. Were going after a monster of war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> Apoptosis, for anyone who may not have caught it, is one of the first steps in atrophy. it is when your cells release the chemical signal that triggers cellular death, so in short they have been shortening the lifespan of her cells.
> 
> Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose International Airport is a real airport in the vicinity of Kolkata India. I imagine given the urgency of the situation the would want to drop Natasha off is close to Doctor Banner is possible, and given the urgency they would call only an available forces already in the area first is back up for this mission.
> 
> The last line in this chapter, "We aren't going after a man. Were going after a monster of war." is a direct reference to the FURYS BIG WEEK comics, where Natasha tells Director Fury "These are gods and monsters and machines of war we're mixed up with."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1552 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA

* * *

It's only sound that I experience this time, and emotion. I can hear someone humming, but whether it's coming from me or meant for me to hear I'm not sure. It's just there, and it's very clearly a song of some kind. There's too much of a melody and rhythm to its notes for it not to be.

It's also so full of love. That's the emotion I feel, and it's practically pouring out with that sound. Love, adoration, fulfillment, joy, and warmth. I can identify all of that in those notes, because they're familiar to me. I've felt them before, but this kind of love, it confuses me. It isn't romantic love, or the love of a friend, it's too different, too strong and I...

 _I can feel something itching._ The sensation confuses me for a second, as I am suddenly aware of something rough scraping at my cheek, but then it makes more sense when I feel it followed by the smooth but cool snuffling sensation of a familiar wet nose and whiskers. My ears are also greeted by a happy meow despite my lazy groan.

"Jareth sweetie no more..." Hearing me say his name only makes him even more earnest in his efforts, and while I do appreciate how much he feels he needs to demonstrate his love for me, my cheek feels a little raw, and stings too, like I was crying or something. "Cut it out."

His retreat was also a little confusing, not only that he did so but also because of the protesting meow that came with it, until I heard actual words appear. "No more little one, you should let her rest."  _Oh god, that voice!_

It wasn't that I forgot about his existence, I don't think it would be possible for me to do something that stupid. It's just that he wasn't in here when I fell asleep, so I wasn't expecting him to be in here when I woke up. I sort of figured I would have heard him come in.

 _I've let myself make that mistake twice now._  Then again, I don't actually remember falling asleep, but I do remember taking those pills and that was really, REALLY stupid!

So is my desire to pretend I fell back asleep. I know he knows I'm awake, after all he would have had to be near me to pull Jareth away from me, and my surprised flinch at the sound of his voice wasn't exactly subtle.

Which also means of course, that he is probably still holding my kitten. I doubt he would hurt my kitten just to hurt him, since at the moment I can't think of anything he would stand to gain from it other than cooperation that I'm already going to give him, but the concern is still there.

Pushing myself up from my laying position on my stomach I roll over on to my back instead, and using my hands for leverage I pull my hips farther under me so I'm sitting rather than reclining. I still feel vulnerable, but this way it isn't as bad as before, and at least I might be able to put up a fight if he tries to pin me down.

The movement is more uncomfortable than I would like to admit it should be, specifically at that point of my thigh I've been doing my damnedest not to think about. Just sitting up made me have to bite my cheek raw to avoid crying out.

 _Oh, god, please don't let it be infected._ If it's infected they are going to touch me again, I know it! He'll insist on it, and there won't be anything I can say or do to stop them.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1554 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI

* * *

The fact that she is in pain again is obvious, but because she is making quite the effort to hide that I give her the courtesy of overlooking it for the time being. Very soon if the situation evolves the way I expect it to I shall have a new and better opportunity to do something about it.

"C-Can I..." The direction of her eyes tells me what she wants, and before she can finish stammering out her nervous question I agree.

"Of course my dear..." Shifting my hold on the kitten I decide to set it gently at her side and let it climb its own way into her lap, instead of holding it out for her to take.

The less physical contact she has to have with me for now the better for her mental state, given that it is clearly shocked enough already as her mind starts to take in the truth of what her eyes seeing.

The kitten is standing on all fours of its legs, no longer encumbered by that thick and immobilizing layer of gauze.

"W-What..." Her confusion was expected, given this realms poor excuse of medical technology on all fronts, but the sudden shift into suspicious and angry accusation was not. "What did you do to him?! What did you...?"

How interesting that when she feels there is a threat directed at her she shrinks and cowers from it like a struck beast, but when she perceives it directed toward something she cares about that is when she finds her bravery and defiance.  _How useful I could make that._

 _But not now, not at this moment._  Now I need her to relax and regain her senses. "My dear, calm yourself." Feeling emboldened by her own actions I risked venturing a bit closer but her defensive flinch quickly discouraged me, and pleased me a little more.  _It was but an instant, but she looked almost willing to fight me to protect that creature in her arms. I can definitely make use of that._

"Look at him Arnora." I plead with her gently even as I retreat back a few steps for her comfort. "Is he not healed to your eyes? Do you find this deception you seek?" Giving her the time and space to examine the feline for whatever it is she suspects me of.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1601 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA

* * *

I thought it was a trick, I was absolutely sure of it actually. For a second I was so happy because my baby boy was all better, then I remembered who this man was. I remembered Erik talking about the 'mythical' figure that was Loki, the stories that had been inspired by the very real man standing in front of me.

He's a trickster, and a master of spells and illusions and the art of deceitful speech. He's also a shape-shifter they say, but more important to this moment is that there's even stories of him changing the shape of other things!

Those were my theories; he cast some kind of illusion to make it look like Jareth's broken leg was healed, or worse still, was the possibility that this wasn't even my kitten I was holding but something he created to look like him to trick me and I believed if I just checked hard enough I would find something to prove I'm right about it.

Except I'm not finding anything. I'm running my fingers through his tawny fur, splaying his little pink toes, and examining every inch of his frame to the point that he is whining and squirming in discomfort but still I'm not satisfied.

It continues to the point that I'm beginning to question if I should stop on the chance it really is my kitten, because I wouldn't want to hurt him just to prove a point.

I completely stop when I notice his tattoo, the little blue line etched on the skin of his belly peeking out past his tan undercoat. He was given that when I had him neutered. A mark to show other vets that he was already fixed in case he somehow got lost and was taken in by someone else with a soft spot for strays. A safety measure to avoid unnecessary surgeries.

It's a detail that doesn't seem like something this man would know to include in his replication. It's really my kitten in my hands! All healed and better just like he was before he tried to be my little hero against a Goliath.

I can feel the tears threatening to break over the dam of my eyelids, so in an effort to hide them in case I can't stop them I pull my kitten close and bury my face in the barrier his fur; an act of affection that he seems to have no problem with returning the way he purrs and nuzzles me back. "I, h-how? I do-don't understa-and?"

I can hear him move, the subtle sound of his leather clothing shifting with a strange sort of silent intensity but this time the sight of my nervous tension isn't enough to discourage his approach, at least not completely. He instead picks a spot on the end of the bed, as far as he can be away from me while still having enough space to sit on it. "Lest your doctor friend misspoke, you have already been made aware to the 'how', have you not?"

"I..?" I start to tell him no, that I have no idea what he's talking about, except then I realize that I do. Erik comes to my mind again. He told me about something incredible, he called it a stone. He said it healed him, that it dissolved a large piece of glass right out of his chest! he said it saved his life. "A-A stone? The stone?"

A gentle smile is accompanied by an equally soft nod of his head. "A healing stone, made by the skilled hands of the Vanir healers."

As he speaks his hands move, rising slowly and steadily so I can keep it under my weary gaze. His left one comes to rest with its palm up and open flat in display, while his right hovers in a cupped position over it for a moment before a shimmering green light spills out between the cracks on his fingers and he tilts it back at the wrist.

It's a motion that I can't help but compare to him opening a small box, a motion that is far too similar to a man proposing. It creates a very unsettling feeling in my gut, especially given the small shimmering object that it reveals is now resting in his hand. "And a gift for you, if you will have it."

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1605 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI

* * *

The nervous gesture of refusal came quicker and stronger than I thought it might, even though I made the offer suspecting it might be met with some hesitation on her part given our previous interactions. I did not expect her to recoil from the idea as if I threatened to poison her though.

"My dear, you are in agony and I do not wish to use force against you. Why do you continue to refuse my offers?" Even now, as she does her best to hide it, I can see the tension in her expression from the constant state of pain she is in, and the tiny wince that she fails to contain with each movement. "What is it that you fear so?"

Those lovely eyes of her's widen once again in fright before she drops them from my gaze and shakes her head desperately. "No, no I...I j-just, I do-don't, I don't, I c-can't agree." It is a sight that makes me want to lift her face back to mine, and comfort her with gentle hands.

It is a sight that leaves me conflicted because I do not know how to reassure her in the state she is exists in now without terrifying her.

"Agree, my dear?" That one word catches my attention and explains everything going on in her mind rather clearly for me. "You think this gift comes with the price of hidden conditions?" These words are spoken with a sad sort of admiration.  _She does not know me at all but she still knows me so well._

"D-Doesn't it?" She lowers her head more to hide herself from my view, almost trembling as she tries to bury her mass within itself. "Y-You- wan-ant some-th-thing from m-me, d-don't y-you?"

"Yes..." I answer that honestly because I know she is not foolish enough to believe any of my offers are entirely altruistic at this point, I would be rather disappointed in truth if she did. "I do want something from you, but this Arnora..." I lift the stone in my hand into her field of vision as emphasis. "This. Is. Free. Let me heal you."

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1608 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA

* * *

Again I find myself shaking my head in opposition despite all sense, healing means touching, and there can't be any touching, there just can't! But that's not my only reason against wanting to accept it.

I do want the pain to stop, I am in agony like he said. I don't know anyone who wouldn't want to have pain go away, even the people I know who are trained to deal with the pain still don't want it when they're in it after all.

But I'm afraid of what will happen to me once it goes away. There's a strange sense of security that comes with being injured. He wants something from me, and odds are he'll try to get it once I'm healed.  _F_ _or the life of me all I can think about the feeling of his lips pressing a kiss against the top of my head._

I'm scared that he might want what 'not Clint' wanted from me. I can tell already that he is strong enough to take that from me if he wants to and I'm scared my heart will literally give out under the stress if he does.

I'm even more afraid though that what I'm thinking of doing is going to earn me a much slower death.

Really all I  _want_  to do right now is curl up in a ball in some corner and shrink right out of existence but I know that's not possible, and even if it was, somehow I know he would never leave me alone long enough to do it.

I caught this god's attention somehow and while I don't think that his obsession with me is an anyway a good thing, I know it could be. That is if I can stop being terrified of the idea and find the courage to start using it to my advantage.

It sounds so easy when it's just a sentence, and it probably would be easy if I was anybody but me. The new me at least, the me that settled for menial work and wasn't serious about her training as an Agent because she was scared. The me that never had any real interest in advancing in the ranks of S.H.I.E.L.D until these crippling conditions were a thing in the past tense.

If I'd been serious about relearning the skills I forgot I wouldn't be in this mess. I'd be out of here and halfway to a rendezvous with Natasha or S.H.I.E.L.D. I'd be safe.

I just never wanted it very much despite how much I owed them for all that S.H.I.E.L.D had done for me. They saved my life, but I wanted so much to be normal because being normal meant being simple and uncomplicated. I thought being normal meant being safe. Nothing bad happens to normal people, not like this.

"My dear, if what you fear is that I will touch you I can assure you..." He cuts himself off as I cut in, his words stopping not because I dared to interrupt him, but because I managed to surprise him.

"N-No, it it's not that."

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1611 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI   


* * *

I allow the silence to speak for me as I tilt my head curiously and let my fingers curl back over the stone as I pull back my hand to let the offer rest in my lap for now. I have a notion forming in my head as to why she protests and I am very eager to see if I am right, to see if she really has that level of bravery hidden in her.

"Its just..." Her eyes lift to mine and drop away with nervous anxiety. "I mean, if..." And the motion is repeated once more, her lovely green orbs meeting mine less than a blink before pulled away by the floor. "Y-You'd be w-willing..."

 _I was right._  "You want to ask me for something?" I almost sound awed to my own ears because even though I hoped for it I was not truly convinced she had it in her anymore to overcome her fears like this. I was worried they carved every ounce of courage from her flesh long ago.

Hearing me say that though, she immediately goes to retract her words once again stammering various versions of the sentiment 'no' as she shakes her head. She is not entirely as brave as she seems. I have to restrain myself from completing the motion of reaching out to steady her, the sight of her flinching back once again reminds me that the usual course of action is not the correct one anymore.

"Shh..." Her voice tapers off at my hush, but her physical reaction still borders on heartbreaking intensity. She is looking around, her motion that of staccato shivering as she tries to focus on anything but my presence before her without seeming to ignore me outright. Once again, she reminds me so much of a battered animal that I have to reign in my anger. "No, my dear, do not be so frightened of me, please, and do not apologize for it either."

I saw it coming, that predictable need of a 'victim' to do whatever it takes to please their abuser; a thing I do not want to be to her mind and a response I do not want my actions to illicit anymore.

It leaves her in an odd position. She feels the need to do something to please me still, but cannot figure out what that could be without disobeying the request I just made. "I want you to ask me."

Those words caught her attention completely, of that I have no doubt. Those eyes of hers now fix themselves on mine and linger there, a sort of hopefully dismayed confusion tugging at her brows right before it crumbles away and she turns that beautiful sight from me again.

"P-Please don't b-be so cruel."

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1613 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA

* * *

_It's a trick._ I don't know what's worse to me; that he would say that, knowing I would recognize it for what it was, or that I really wanted to pretend I didn't see the metal teeth surrounding that verbal bait.

He wants to give me that 'option', the chance to ask him for things, to make requests as if I'm his equal. I want to take that option, I want to jump on it and grab it in both hands and hold so tightly to it that it buckles under my grip. I want to ignore the blatantly swaying of the price tag that I know comes with it.

I don't know much about this 'man', not more than ancient stories really, but I know that it's a universal trait within anyone they call a trickster to barter and manipulate the situation to their favor. There's always a price to pay, nothing is ever free and there's always something they can gain.  _A_ _cruel, malicious trick._

I can hear him next to me, the sound of a disappointed sigh leaving him and his movement as he rises from the bed, but I don't even bother paying attention to it at the moment, I don't care what he's going to do. I'm back to just wanting to send my mind away from this horrible situation, and taking a painful sort of joy in the solid warmth of my kitten resting my lap.

At least I am until I see his shadow encompass mine and feel his presence settle squarely in front of me. I can't quite tell if my reaction is due to the fact that his whole body is there, standing far too close to my legs for my comfort, or the fact that his arm is also stretched out, his hand now resting on the other side of my legs trapping me to the bed by pressing down on the loose part of my skirt.

"Look at me, now, my dear." I do what he asks. What else can I do after all, with him leaning over me like this, exerting his dominance over the situation and over me?

"I am a Prince where I come from, a God here, a being once revered by the people of this realm..." I nod through all of those descriptions, trying to clutch my oblivious kitten without crushing him as I swallow nervously because I don't know what else to do but hope to appease him. "And I am a man..." He moves now, and it makes me flinch for a moment, my body making assumptions of violence with the shift, until my mind realizes just how wrong it is. "...Willing to bend his knee to please you."

 _What is this?! He's kneeling to me?!_ Well it isn't a true kneel I suppose given that his face is level with mine, and only one knee is actually touching the floor, the other bent out so his foot can rest against it instead. It still doesn't make sense, he's supposed to be proud, too proud to subjugate himself like this to anyone beneath him. Too proud to do it to me, even as a ploy which in itself makes no sense either.

I've been going over and over why he would bother with a mind game on someone like me. I have no access to classified knowledge, and even if I did he has more effective options at his disposal.

I don't know what's wrong with me, I want to cry, I am crying actually. I can feel the tears brimming in my eyes, and I don't why they're there, or the emotions that are with them.

Not every episode is visual or sensory. Sometimes, it's just a feeling I can't explain, like now. I want to cry because I feel honored, but ashamed, and embarrassed, and nervous, and sad. And I can't explain any of those emotions because they don't feel like mine.

The ones 'they' inspire do though, they scare and confuse me, making it all the more difficult not to cry.

His hand frightens me more. I had my eyes closed and my head lowered, trying to fight the tears back into my eyes, and then I felt his knuckle graze my cheek.

I don't think he meant to scare me by doing that, not with the way his expression went from apologetic to alarmed back to apologetic as he looked at me. I understand that sometimes people's reactions are wrong to me, just because mine are so wrong sometimes too.

"I..." He pauses looking away with a thoughtful expression as his eyes shift, almost like he can actually see the words he is trying to pick. Then he turns back to me, a brief smirk that lacks humor flashing over his lips. "...am at a loss. I know not what to do here, with you." Now he only looks disappointed, but with himself as he lifts his gloved hand and the tear, my tear, riding on it into view. "All I try is met with this."

"J-Just..." My plea is interrupted with the need to sniffle softly much to my shame. "Wh-What do y-you want with me?" I ask, making myself hold his gaze, even as he breaks it first.

He actually looks away, a rueful smile on his lips. He looks back after a moment. "From you kjære, as I said before, all I want is a chance."

"A-A cha-chan-c-ce?" The humor in that expression fades, leaving just that painful sadness.  _It's painful for me too, but I don't know why._

"Yes, a chance to prove the sincerity of my claim. I know you Arnora, let me remind you what that name means. Allow me to try, and for it I will pay you a promise."

I don't even know what expression he is wearing now because I'm not looking at him anymore. I'm burying my face in my palms trying to dry these damn tears, and smooth away the rising stress headache this roller-coaster has left me with.

"I'm scared." It's an admission of more than what those words say. It's an agreement. I'm giving him this 'chance'. He will pay me a promise. That's what he said, but I know it doesn't come with any guarantee he'll keep his word, in fact its more likely he won't. But, if I don't accept this opportunity now I'll lose it forever.  _And a bargaining tool is exactly what I' m supposed to want._

His words at least sound sincere. "I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:  
> While nora is checking her kitten to make sure its her kitten, she references a myth behind her suspicions. That myth is where Loki turn Idun into an acorn so he could turn into a falcon and fly away with her in his talons to escape a giant eagle. you can read more about it here. http://norse-mythology.org/tales/the-kidnapping-of-idun/


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1623 HOURS 

S.H.I.E.L.D QUINJET 

AIRSPACE OVER NEPAL 

* * *

NATASHA

* * *

After Dr. Banner agreed to come with us peacefully we escorted him to collect his things from the shanty that passed as his house. We already knew where it was as part of our basic surveillance, and given his nomadic lifestyle he didn't really have much to pack. Then we made our way out of the city limits in un-companionable silence.

I don't blame the doctor for not trusting people, since not trusting people is what I do every day of my life. The man has been hunted across multiple continents for what lives inside him, and while the differences between a separate entity, and a specific skill set are rather vast I can still understand his cautions, I was hunted for what I had once too.

I know what it's like to live your life looking for an enemy in every face.

If I was still in his situation I would probably do the same thing as him, I would test the situation and the person just like he did. But I'm not in his position, and the last time we occupied the same space, he almost painted a wall with me.

The mixed SWAT and STRIKE team wasn't the best idea on my part to maintain a calm environment, but there was no way I was meeting 'his' host without some sort of security in place if things went wrong.

Yet I find part of me respects this man very much, because despite calling my bluff and scaring me to the point of putting a finger on the trigger, he hasn't asked me to apologize for my attempt at deceiving him about the men outside. He understands what he is to other people, he's just tired of being treated like a toy.

No one really spoke to anyone on the ride to the local Air Force base with the exception of instructions and radioed responses. The same can be said for the trip through the airport, and our departure from there. It wasn't until about twenty minutes into our flight back to the Hellicarrier that the first words of a conversation were spoken.

"Do I really make you that nervous Miss Romanoff?" That question set off about a dozen alarms simultaneously in my head before I forced them back into the abyss under the weight of a lifetime of training.

After I ran over the flight plan for him I showed him where we stored our supply of mild tranquilizers, mood stabilizers, and anti nausea medicine if he thought he needed it.

Then I made sure we were both buckled in and as comfortable as one can get on a small fighter transport jet, I set myself to focusing only on the information in front of me and try to not think about the fact I was going to share this space with him for several more hours. That is why to my nervous tension those words sounded too much like a precursor to this plane falling out of the sky.

That he startled me when he spoke isn't lost on either of us, and at this point I no longer have the mental or emotional reserve necessary to try and convince him otherwise, and settle instead on quietly accepting the small apologetic smile he offers me. "I'm sorry, it's just I couldn't help but notice you've been chewing on your cheek ever since we took off."

He isn't wrong about that observation, but at the same time he's not entirely right about the cause. Its only half about his company, but should I really tell him that?

This man isn't S.H.I.E.L.D in any capacity, in fact he is one of the most dangerous things S.H.I.E.L.D has ever met in its decades of existence. He might even, and we can't know until the encounter we hope to never happen occurs, be stronger than a certain muscular blonde haired 'God'.

Both of them do enough damage on their own. I never met this Thor, but I've seen the footage and trust Clint's first hand account as proof of that. I would personally be okay if they never met.

But at the same time, we are bringing Dr. Banner in, not for the muscle of the monster within him but for the cooperation of the brilliant man. A man who has loved and lost things, who feels emotions just like any other human being on the planet.

 _Do I really want to cross this line?_  I haven't received an explicit order saying I can't tell him anything about Nora, even though I know damn well they expect me not to, but humanizing 'myself' and 'my' reasons to him can only help S.H.I.E.L.D's cause, and the spy in me says that alone makes the risk of repercussions worth it.

I'm not thinking as just the spy now, but also as the sister she came to see me as. Loki has her in his possession, and everything we've learned says that Loki is the kind of man who will force a confrontation with us at some point, which means she will probably be there with him when he does, and now that we are bringing Banner in, so will the Hulk.

If there is even so much as a sliver of a chance that Banner having prior knowledge about Nora will protect her in some way from the Hulk if he comes out, I'm taking that chance.

"Did you know I've been to Culver University once, Doctor?" I ask him after I release out a resigned sigh and let the tablet in my hands rest in my lap for a moment.

The understanding look passing through his eyes and the small 'oh' he utters is all that needs to be added to that statement for me to know he has no confusion about 'when' I am referring to.

"My sister, Nora, saw 'you' throw a piece of a jeep in my direction on the footage, she isn't your biggest fan because of that. But she is the kind of person who tries very hard not to judge someone until she's met them herself so she said she would like to meet you face to face if she could." I add with a stiff sort of smile to his confused expression why I would bring up something like, at least until I open some files on the screen that he can see and slide them over to the pad in his hand.

"These are..." he says after a moment of his eyes dancing across the screen with increasing tension forming in his eyebrows. "...crime scene photos?"

"Its how we found her home after that сукин сын dragged my little sister from it." I elaborate for him. "This is all very personal for me but I'm praying she still gets to meet you someday."

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1631 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI

* * *

I gave her some time alone because I knew she needed it to collect herself. What she agreed to would be taxing on her mind, and it has already endured quite a bit of stress as it is.

I also set that hired muscle with the irritatingly thick accent outside her door to keep everyone but myself from entering to make sure of her privacy, and left him with a firm reminder of just who the definition of 'everyone' included.

I cannot help but sympathize with her situation, but there is nothing I can do for her except what I already am, nor do I want to. I am trying to convince her that she is not what she thought she was, what she was always told and believed she was. A weak and short-lived mortal like every other citizen of this realm.

The parallels between myself and Odin are not lost on me in this situation and are weighted heavily with disgust.

I may not have been the one to deceive her about her heritage, but when she remembers the truth of what she is I will be the one she blames for shattering the comfort of that illusion.

I also gave her time, because I have other important tasks and plans that must continue to progress steadily outside her door. The mortals needed my knowledge to make their machine, and I need to get it done quickly enough to keep all prying eyes from prying too far.  _I will not let 'him' see her._

If the Chitauri or their master Thano's and his kin ever learned of her existence, she would not survive it. They would take her by force and torture her just to control me better and to satisfy that vile creature's pride. The Other despises me simply because I am more useful to his master right now then he is.

I do not think much of his people and I think even less of the Other himself, but even I have to acknowledge that against their numbers and skills at inflicting pain, I would not be able to save her.

Her anonymity is her best defense against them and her only one until she wakes and becomes herself again, an act I look forward to and will do everything in my power to make sure it happens in the manner of  _my_  choosing.  _I will have her with me again as she always should have remained. Odin's will be damned._

When I finally finish what I can and return to our quarters I find her not on the bed where I last saw her, but sitting in one of the padded armchairs on the right side of the room. She is accompanied by the feline napping contentedly in her lap yet again, and the glassware I left her with held in her hands as her thumb traces idly around the rim of it.

Having heard the sound of the door's hinges and my approaching steps her gaze lifts to meet mine and she offers me a brief smile. It drops back down quickly though, her eyes and her smile as if she does not have the strength to maintain it, to stare back at the now empty container in her hands. "I-It worked..."

I left her with a healing stone, dissolved within the liquid contained in that glass. Due to my somewhat limited supply and the intensity of her injuries I decided that it would be far more effective and less traumatic for her if she was healed from within, rather than forcing her to expose each wound and treating it by hand. More importantly though, I left her with it to see if she would actually make use of it.

The fact that she did so is very pleasing to me, it speaks of some progress between us. Even frightened and confused she will still accept some things from me. That is always a good sign, the willingness to at least consider my generosity.

But the more I continue to look at her expression the more I find myself becoming concerned about her again.

"And yet you do not seemed pleased?" I make the comment as I close the door behind me and step farther into the room, making a brief detour to set the package I'm carrying on the table for now, before resuming my direction and stopping in front of her.

She lifts her head again and I hear her offer the usual response of an 'I'm sorry' meant to appease me, but this time it does not sound fearful so much as just full of indecipherable need.

"My dear, what is wrong? if you tell me I will fi..."

"You already did." Her words are trembling, but they come out so quickly there is no time for a stutter to invade their syllables. "You already fixed it."

Her body is trembling too, a soft but consistent shiver overtaking her muscles despite the curiously neutral state of her face. Whatever it is that she is feeling in that head of her's, she is not going to let it show this time, and her efforts are much more successful than all the times before.

"Please my dear..." I let my hand reach for her, not to actually touch her, but simply to urge her face to lift to meet mine. I made the gesture without the intent to connect, but her own intentions were very different to my dismay, she reached for me! She lifted her hand as mine neared, letting the glass it had been holding drop and shatter at her feet, unnoticed except by the startled awake and fleeing creature as her hand wrapped those delicate fingers around my wrist.

"Arnora...?!" I cannot smother the joyous awe in my questioning tone, nor do I wish to. Even if there was a glove in the way she still touched me, completely by her own volition. But while I am pleased beyond measure by this I do not miss the way her own expression plummets or the tears that begin brimming in her eyes.

"Oh god, I was right." Her hand pulls back, and now rests with her other as she cups them in front of her mouth. "It looks the same! It matches!"

Those words stop me in my attempt to comfort her or seek an explanation for the sudden shift, and this time I find myself joining her in her pain. Letting my eyes drift closed I too lift my hand to cover the hardening set of my mouth as I turn away. I know exactly why she is upset now, and I loathe that knowledge.

There is but one reason she would seek out my hand and compare it to something. A single healing stone of that size if dissolved and consumed can repair any injuring, even a life threatening one. But repairing is not the same as removing.

There was no certainty either way, how much damage it would be able to reverse. I knew that when I offered it to her, but I still hoped it would see to  _that_  wound as well. I was wrong, and I take no joy in the fact that I am now the reason behind those scars burned forever into her skin.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1636 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA

* * *

I wanted to be angry with him, I was angry with him actually. I drank that magickal elixir he left me with and I felt it tingle its way through my flesh as it spread. Then after it finished its work and I mustered up enough of my exhausted courage again, I looked.

I peeled back the bandages on my skin to see what it had actually done to me. I checked my shoulder, and felt my face, and looked at my hands. As I went on I became more and more thrilled with what I didn't find! It had actually healed me! Then I looked at my leg and I wept. Where Clint plunged a knife through my muscles there wasn't flawless skin as I hoped for, or even a thick line that I might have accepted, but a set of pale scars shaped like hand prints engulfing my thigh.

I'd been branded by hands, large hands with artistic fingers. His hands, and I  _needed_  to know why!

But now as I watch him realize what I am accusing him of, and confirm it to be true by his own reaction, I can't find that anger in me anymore.

I thought he did it to me on purpose, that he meant for them to be there like some twisted mark of his ownership over me. But then why would he shed tears at the fact? Even if he is a master at manipulation, I know a mistress in that same art, and even she has trouble summoning up physical tears on command.

He didn't mean to do it, however and why-ever he put his hands there, He didn't mean for them to leave scars.

The knowledge that he feels so strongly about it outweighs the knowledge that he touched me.

That thought makes me rise to my feet, for once without physical pain. Treading carefully I avoid slicing open the bare skin of my feet on the shards of glass as I make my way over to him, and the view of his back he still offers me.

"Loki..." I venture his name to get his attention with some uncertainty because I am not sure what title or suffix to use anymore, but I also pause because I'm unsure of the wisdom of what I'm about to do. "Y-You-re c-cry-ing?!"

While I half expected he might get angry at me for calling attention to his moment of 'weakness', instead the reaction I get is the sound of his weakly laugh infused huff, and the droop of his shoulders as he wipes away the tear that graced his cheek.

"Yes my lady, it seems that I am." He says humorously still not facing me but I can hear the sound of a genuinely sad smile in his tone.

"Why?" The question seemed obvious enough for me to ask, but as I watch his posture draw back up in alarm I realize it was not so obvious to him. After another second his body starts to turn at last to face me again, a look of lingering dismay on his features.

"Why...My lady?" When I don't answer his question, instead overcome by embarrassed discomfort he continues on. "You truly question why I would shed a tear at the thought that I was the one who..." he drifts off, his eyes closing and his jaw clenching with a look of guilty wrath. "...inflicted such ruin on your skin?"

I'm not sure which detail it is that makes the expression of pain in his face deepen; the idea that he did it, the fact I just can't figure out why, or that once again I don't know what to say.

"I'll pay whatever price you ask of me for this sin on your flesh." He says, ending yet another promise to me with a very rueful smile. "But know that as much I regret their existence, I put those marks there so to save your life, and I will never mourn that decision."

And I watch another tear grace his otherwise stoic cheek.

There are so many explanations in that. Some I already guessed at; I didn't miss the part where his hand prints were over the area that I knew Clint stabbed me in. I was checking for that mark, and I checked even more hoping to find it under those hand-prints somehow, but I didn't. His hands eclipsed it in whatever he did to put those scars there.

I also guessed that it would have had to be some kind of burn to cover a pre-existing wound, and actually make it disappear like that. It would also be a very logical step since they were there in the first place. When someone is stabbed and bleeding badly, cauterizing a wound closed is a well-known emergency measure to save a life.

It doesn't answer why the burns are shaped like a pair of hands though, and so specifically his hands, because I can't think of a way that's possible unless he burned his own hands in the process, unlikely as that is. Which if I am right in the question I'm about to ask, it only adds more evidence to my theory.

"Loki..." I don't know if I want the answer to match my assumption, or if I fear it, but I realize I need to know this too, more than anything so far. I need to know why he feels he this need for me. "Kjære? T-that word, i-it me-means beloved does-doesn't it?"

His only response is a small smile as he lets his head drift more then drop into a nod. Mine is much more severe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> The Russian Natasha uses when she says ""It's how we found her home after that сукин сын dragged my little sister from it" is Russian for "son of a bitch", at least according to Google Translate, which I know is not perfect. However I don't speak Russian so I'm going to take its word for it.
> 
> And when loki mentions "Thano's and his kin" he is talking about Gamora and Nebula (and possibly others because I recall Nebula saying something along to Gamora along the lines of "out of all our siblings I liked you the best). I know they don't show up for several movies, but I can't think of any reason they wouldn't be there while Loki was in Chitauri Space.
> 
> Lastly for anyone who is particular about spelling, the word MAGICKAL is not a mistype. I added to "K" to differentiate the more theatrical sort of magic that you see in las vegas or from street performs, from the more spiritual and mythological MAGICK that Loki uses.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1639 HOURS 

THE STREETS OF MANHATTAN 

NEW YORK CITY 

* * *

STEVE ROGERS

* * *

_I'm nothing to people anymore._  It's a strange thought, and an even stranger feeling, because a part of me actually likes it. It isn't something I thought I would ever miss, being overlooked.

After all, I spent a large part of my life just trying to get people to pay attention to me and take me seriously. Then I got what I wanted, and suddenly everybody knew who I was, I was the person other people got ignored for.

I won't lie and say that I didn't like the attention I received traveling from city to city to help sell bonds for the war, but the transition happened so quickly it was almost suffocating. I wanted to be noticed by people, but I never dreamed it would be that many people!

Now, the most people acknowledge me is shifting their shoulders so they don't walk into me as we stroll in opposite directions around Manhattan.

I don't really know what I'm doing today, I just felt the need to get out of my apartment.

After finishing a quick breakfast of half a dozen bagels and some coffee I went back into my bedroom and picked out my clothes for the day, a light plaid button down with a white tee-shirt to go under it and pair of tan pants.

Then I took a long military shower, letting it last about five minutes or so. Its one of those habits I still haven't been able to break. I know I don't have any reason to hurry beyond the ones I give myself but while according to the rest of the world the days of doing without and saving what you had are decades away to me it's been less than a few years. In my head it just doesn't seem right to waste that much water.

I found myself sitting at my desk next, all dressed for the day, with 'that' folder open in front of me. I've had it a week less than the time I've been awake, but I haven't opened it until now. I couldn't bring myself to.

I made myself do it today. I owed it to the guys, my brothers in arms, my friends. Morita, Falsworth, Dugan, Dernier, and Jones. A pack of loyal idiots if ever there was one. They deserve better than me ignoring their legacy.

They did the only thing they could, and kept on living there lives like the soldiers they were, and they'd smack me if they saw me like this, not living mine.

He would smack me for sure. Bucky wouldn't give a damn that I was a Super Soldier, he'd knock me a good one for being such a punk. I got a second chance in the 'world of tomorrow', with a gorgeous dame at my side and I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to let go of things I had no control over.

He would have adored Nora, glad to know that I had someone around to take care of me. She's a modern woman, that I have no disillusions about, but there is this ageless quality that makes her seem like she would be just at home in the past as in the future.

She'd be a change of pace for him that's for sure, he always had a thing for little spitfire brunette sweethearts and there was never a question that Bucky could charm a lady, but Nora's conditions makes her immune to pretty words, it would be nice to see Bucky treat a woman like a real lady and not a pretty face to dance with for the night.

The only woman I know who ever did that to Bucky was Peggy. Peggy who it turns out is still alive.

When I didn't see the large red letters stamped over her file it gave me pause. _My girl, my best girl, was still alive._ That thought made me so happy. Then more thoughts followed it.

Peggy was born in the spring of 1921, she was already in her twenties when we met, which means she would be in her nineties now. She would have moved on with her life, she did move on with her life in fact. I can see it right on the paper in front of me. She got married, and had kids.

As much as I liked Peggy, the only thing we shared was a kiss and the battlefield. It wouldn't be fair for me to show up back in her life like a ghost of her past at the end. I wasn't sure I could do that to her, not yet.

That's what drove me out of my apartment. I was going to move forward today, I told myself that, so I wasn't going to let my feelings shut me back in. She wouldn't want me to do that and neither would Nora.

For a while the wandering was just wandering, until I found a café called Pershing Square under the Park Avenue bridge near Grand Central Station. I'd never been there before, but decided the place looked nice enough to warrant a small break and something to drink.

I even stayed long enough that my fingers started to casually sketch the view with the small pencil I carried around for that exact purpose. I stayed there until the waitress showed her interest. She was attractive and pleasant enough, but given the things I learned today I knew I wasn't ready for that yet, let alone with a stranger who can't know about my past.

I left her a twenty-dollar tip even though my bill for a muffin and coffee only came to five dollars, and I made my way back into the streets of Brooklyn, letting my memory lead me to a destination I wasn't even sure would be there.

It turned out my hope wasn't misplaced, even if a few letters were over the years. Goldie's Gym was now called Goldman's.

She isn't here this time to witness the aftermath of me exorcising my demons on a punching bag, and I'm sort of glad for that. It was never her responsibility to deal with my problems, no matter how much I appreciated each time she choose to for no other reason than because she understood.

I'll be the one to fix my own hands this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> This chapter mostly covers a deleted scene from the Avengers that got left on the cutting room floor because they decided seeing Steve Destroy a sandbag in the wake of memory flashes conveyed the same message better, but while I respect Joss Whedon's vision, I still liked the scene and decided to use it.
> 
> Also the gym in reference is from CAPTAIN AMERICA: FIRST VENGEANCE. Goldie's Boxing Gym is where Bucky took Steve so they could try to train him so he would pass the physical to join the army.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO

CHAPTER NINETEEN

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

1641 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

DUNCAN

* * *

The boss summoning me happened a lot quicker than I expected it to, mostly because I wasn't expecting it at all! I was under the impression he wanted to spend some time with his lady alone, but 'some time' as it turned out was only a matter of minutes.

Hearing his call it took me only a moment to turn around and open the door, considering I've been put on permanent guard duty because of the woman living in there.

Which also turned out to be the 'crying' woman living in there. I made that observation first thing after I opened the door and looked at her face. She wasn't making any sound while she cried, but the redness of her wet eyes made it pretty clear she was upset about something.

In fact, given his tense demeanor, he wasn't exactly happy either. He wasn't crying like her but he seemed no less agitated; or maybe frustrated by whatever happened between them.

She didn't make a move at first, even though I could I tell she desperately wanted to, given her fidgeting posture, but still she waited until he gave her his permission, telling me that 'the lady asked to be allowed to shower' and I was 'to ensure her complete privacy while within.'

Once he said that she practically sprinted out of that room! I hesitated at first because it sort of caught me off guard, the fact that she did that, but more importantly that I didn't see anything in his expression or posture that said she couldn't. He was okay with it which made me stop my initial reaction to grab her, and instead allowed her to create some distance between us.

The distance though wasn't even ten feet when I finally caught up with her and cut in front of her. It startled her a little, making her shrink back as she looked up at me nervously, right before she looked away again at the floor and started wringing her hands. "Please, I-I jus-just want to take a shower."

 _Jesus Christ, what the hell happened in there?_ She almost looks scared to stand still, like if she does she knows the tremors will snap her in half.

"An' ye will, don't fash yerse, if th' boss says ye can 'en ye will." I offer back, flashing her what would have been a reassuring smile if she actually looked at me, but she doesn't and only has the encouragement in my tone to maybe make her feel better. "But ye don't ken whaur th' shower is, ur hae onie clean clase tae change intae." That sentence catches her attention with embarrassing realization that I'm right. "Th' boss woods be furioos if Ah didn't gie ye whit ye need, sae lets deal wi' 'at first okay?"

At first her reaction is just what I'd expect it to be, she lifts her eyes up to meet mine, but they stop about halfway up, and drop back down with a borderline hysterical huff.

"I'm sorry..." I don't even get in the 'what?' before she adds "...I'm so stupid." I go to tell her she isn't, because it's a natural response and the only one I can think of really, but she just shakes it off and looks at me meekly once again. "Please Duncan, just take me to the showers."

I nod back mutely at hearing my name, a response that seems to please her given the microscopic imitation of a smile she offers me before fixing her gaze back on the floor and waiting for me to move.

Whatever happened in there, and whatever made her say that about herself, its pretty clear I'm not going to get the answer to it any time soon.

It doesn't take us long to reach the right supply cache. When the boss showed up with her in tow, he also seemed to show up with clothes for her. No one is sure when he brought them in, or where he had them in the first place since no one saw anyone carrying any of these packages in. Still whether we saw it happen or not doesn't change the fact that we have a small supply of women's dresses, undergarments, and toiletries available for her disposal.

Their existence once again adds weight to my theory about her importance to the boss. Especially since I've been getting more and more of the 'we puny mortals' vibe from this nut job lately, a vibe that she is apparently immune to somehow.

Since I'm in a hurry, and I know she is too so she won't care given the state she's in, I just grab the first dress I see. I snatch up a bra and package of underwear for her, all the while choosing not to focus on that part. I also grab a towel for her, as well as a hair brush, set of flip-flops, shampoo, conditioner and a bar of soap.

All of this gets shoved just as quickly into a tan rucksack, that I sling over my shoulder before I turn back to her, finding her once again focusing on the floor and waiting for me to move.

It's actually a smart idea on her part to not look at the people she has to know are looking at her. It will keep her out of trouble. I'm sure she is very tempted to look around and try to memorize the layout of this place, whether for an escape plan or just to try figuring out where she is. But by not doing it no one will accuse her of it or punish her for it, and she sees that as more important.

Once that is taken care of it doesn't take us long to reach the shower room of this underground bunker and head inside. I just need to check first and make sure it's empty after all I don't want to catch the hell that would rain down on me if I let her be alone in here with another guy, or worse still that bastard who brought her in.

Throughout the whole check of the room she once again just reverts to looking at the floor instead of watching me, and she even continues to do it once I finish and walk back up to her. I actually have to clear my throat to get her to look up at me. "Miss?"

The look she gives me is probably the most timid look I've seen from her yet, and her sentence, once I translate it back into words explains why. "C-Ca-can y-you at le-least-t s-stan-and in the c-corn-ner?"  _She thinks I'm gonna watch!_

She thinks I'm some asshole pervert that's really gonna stand here to watch her strip down and shower! Well, maybe she doesn't think the asshole pervert part, I get more of the impression really that she just assumes that those are my orders and as a 'good' soldier I'm going to follow them whether it makes her uncomfortable or not.

Except those aren't my orders, and I'm pretty sure if the boss even thought I ogled his girlfriend in the shower, he'd kill me himself.

Plus part of me checking the shower was to make sure that there wasn't anything loose that she could get her hands on to do something stupid with so I could safely leave her alone.

"Nae Lil Hen..." At first she thinks my no is to her request to stand in the corner, and I watch her face drop in response as I drop her bag. "I'm gonna be ootwith th' duir." Hearing that her face lifts again, with a sort of hopeful disbelief, like she is afraid to accept reality would be so nice to her all of a sudden.

 _And Jesus Christ, that's kind of heartbreaking._ I need to get out of this room and away from this woman before I do something stupid. "Duir locks frae th' inside but Ah got a key, ye tak' as lang as ye need, an' caa me when yoo're brain new again, okay?"

Still caught up in her dismay all she manages to let me know she understands is a weak nod, but it's enough, and with it I turn to go out the door and breath some safe air.

But her voice stops me. "D-Duncan..."  _Crap lady, please don't say my name like._ She makes it sound she's talking to Jesus or something. I really don't need a woman with a Savior complex right now.

I also don't need to be rude to her either cause ignoring her will get me in trouble too, no matter how much I should for the sake of my sanity. "Yeah, ye need somethin' else?"

"No, just..." She shakes her head, that smile of hers shaking too as she wrings her hands and tries to order her words. "Thank you."

"Don't fash yerse abit it." I offer back with smile before I finally succeed in closing this door, and letting my back rest against it.  _I'_ _m doomed._

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

1649 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

He left the bag, a tan canvas rucksack with brown leather straps, on the ground next to where his feet just were. It's still sitting there of course, standing up-right and waiting patiently for me to move and take it. It takes me a moment before I can do so.

 _I said I was so stupid..._  My feet finally move, first the left, then its opposite. They register that the floor here is cold, but they don't really care any more because the floor has always been cold here. The only difference now is the cold floor isn't covered in sand.

 _That was such a foolish thing for me to do..._ The floor is cold against my knees too even through the barrier of the dress I can feel the smoother and unforgivable firmness of the tiled floor. The floor is white, the bricks of the walls are white, even the pipes over my head are white. But the dress that I pull from the bag is green.

 _I wasted it, I wasted one..._ It is a pretty dress. The green is specifically emerald-green and it has two strips of fabric over the shoulders, that connect to the rest of the dress and dip into a shallow V, while below the jeweled empire waist it hangs in gentle creases down to the floor. It's a very nice gift I suppose, I should like it very much.

 _How could I waste that?_ He threw in a bra and a package of unopened underwear, which I'm not so much bothered by as sort of amused over.

 _I had a promise, and I spent it on this..._ I'm even more amused when I find a pair of rubber sandals in the bag of supplies. That's very nice gesture from a man who doesn't have any reason to care about me.

 _I spent it on a shower?!..._ Then I pull out the towel as well. It's a very nice towel, even more so considering the kind of people around me. It's very plush and soft, and larger than most towels. It is also bundled around the rest of my supplies which I remove as I carefully unroll and fold it methodically.

 _All because I panicked..._  I do the same with the rest of my things, until I have made a nice stack of my supplies that I can carry over to the cubby next to the shower. I think it was originally a small window or maybe a ventilation duct, but it's since had the back of it bricked up as well, so now it's just a square shelf recessed in the wall where I can put my things.

 _I panicked because he said he loved me._ After situating my 'gifts' I end up but a step away from being in the shower itself. It is it's own little stall, the white bricks stacked from floor to ceiling on three of the four sides with a white hanging curtain down on the fourth.

 _That shouldn't be terrifying, most people love the idea of being loved by someone, I know they do..._ For a moment I just sort of stand there, letting my gaze linger on the difference of the rusted drain in the middle of the white tiles, musing that he had a reason for the sandals after all. Then I add my own layer of white to the floor, letting the dress I woke up in crumple to a forgotten heap around my ankles.

 _But I'm not most people, no matter how hard I've tried to be, I want that idea so bad, but it's so terrifying to me, even from the one I wish would love me._ The next few of my actions happen rather quickly. I don't bother unclasping my bra so much as just lifting it over my head, and shrug out of my underwear with the same concern. The flip-flops that he left me are treated just as poorly, I drop them haphazardly on the floor, kicking over the one that landed upside down, and sliding my feet into them before my feet carry me into the stall, and my hand twists the handle.

But once the water hits my face I finally let myself cry, unknown to anyone who isn't unfortunate enough to be me.  _Somebody save me, I don't know what to do._

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

1653 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

LOKI

* * *

I answered  _her_  question, I declared my affection for her because she asked for that truth, and then I watched her falter under it!

I watched her strength crumble, both from her body as it retreated from me on weakening legs, and her spirit as she started to cry, as she all but begged against the single step I approached.

She pleaded between tears and sobs to for me to let her leave my presence, and I did because I too had reasons to fear.

I let her leave because I know myself well and had no wish for her to see the emotions her reaction inspired. I did not want to scare her, I did not want to risk losing her more than I may have already.

I called her beloved, and she looked on me in fear!  _She refused me!_

The pillar at my side caves in, creating a small crater before the force of my fury. It is a poor substitute to the damage I want to inflict to make these feelings go away. If she only knew what they did to her, if she only knew what I have done for her, she would not run from me like that!

But if I were to tell her the truth as it stands now, she would call me a liar, and trickster and  _monster_  like everyone else!  _It is bad enough she thinks me cruel!_

I could vent my fury and tear apart this room, this very shelter brought down around us in the process, but it would accomplish nothing for me. I need a new tactic to figure out how to get through to her. I need to find a way to convince her of the truth, but in my presence she is too guarded and timid.

 _But perhaps..._ the thought occurs to me, and a smile spreads over my cheeks as I recall a different life form that I can sway to my purposes.  _Someone she feels more accustomed to would do better._

It does not take my eyes long to seek out the reflection of a different pair, the kitten's eye gleaming at me nervously from my angry display. It also does not take me long when I move over and extend my hand under the bed to beckon it out from its shelter.  _Such a useful and trusting creature I will make of you._

It is hesitant at first, naturally as a small creature would be in the face something larger, but after a moment of sniffing my fingers and licking my cool skin, it no longer protests the idea of me picking it up, nor do I protest its curious examination of the metal cuff of my sleeve.

"You and I little one..." Running my fingers over its coat I grin at the green shimmer that starts drifting down into its skin. The first contact making it ruffle its own fur in confusion and discomfort, before it escalates into trying to wriggle out of my grasp with a protesting nips and almost frightened cries.

That lasts only until the first shimmer skims over its eyes. Now it does not wish to escape me, but pushes itself eagerly into the caress of my fingers, seeking out the addictive sensation of my magick, with a thoroughly pleased purr. "We will crack the mystery of you 'mother's' mind."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:  
> TRANSLATIONS OF DUNCANS ACCENT.
> 
> An' ye will, don't fash yerse, if th' boss says ye can 'en ye will.  
> And you will, don't worry, if the boss says you can then you will.
> 
> But ye don't ken whaur th' shower is, ur hae onie clean clase tae change intae.  
> But you don't know where the shower is, or have any clean clothes to change into.
> 
> Th' boss woods be furioos if Ah didn't gie ye whit ye need, sae lets deal wi' 'at first okay?  
> The boss would be furious if I didn't get you what you need, so lets deal with that first okay?
> 
> Nae Lil Hen...  
> No Lil Hen...
> 
> I'm gonna be ootwith th' duir.  
> I'm gonna be outside the door.
> 
> Duir locks frae th' inside but Ah got a key, ye tak' as lang as ye need, an' caa me when yoo're brain new again, okay?  
> Door locks from the inside but I got a key, you take as long as you need, and call me when you're decent again, okay?
> 
> Yeah, ye need somethin' else?  
> Yeah, you need something else?
> 
> Don't fash yerse abit it.  
> Don't worry about it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

1700 HOURS

HELICARRIER

INTERNATIONAL WATERS ON ROUTE TO NEW YORK AREA

* * *

 NICK FURY

DIRECTOR OF S.H.I.E.L.D

* * *

It took me longer to reach the Helicarrier then Coulson because they had to send back a helicopter to take me to the nearest airfield first. All the ones we had at the P.E.G.A.S.U.S base were destroyed the same time the base was, half buried in the rubble as they slid into the chasm the Tesseract left behind.

There were a lot of things I _wanted_ to do once I landed on the deck of the carrier, but the first thing I set out to do wasn't on the list. The World Council wanted to talk, and I could fathom a pretty good guess why. After all, once Agent Hill was safely cleared, being my second in command, she was  medevaced here before I arrived.

"Director,..." Just from the tone of that first word I know exactly what kind of conversation this is going to be. "...S.H.I.E.L.D operates under the World Security Council we should have been informed of all the details."

But that's okay, it isn't exactly something new that I have to endure. Their scolding attitude almost always makes them disagree with my methods but certain things can't be argued at the end of the day. "The Council's interest in our work has always been about results not procedure."

"Agent Clint Barton is intimate with S.H.I.E.L.D procedure I believe and now we learn he's working with the enemy? A man whose talent appears to be..." Hearing that name spoken fills me with a bit of disappointment. I know Agent Hill is a strict follower of procedure but I didn't think she would turn on a teammate so quickly. "Killing." This one can and damn well will be argued though, that's why I force my own words in and cut him off with an undeniably fact.

"But he didn't kill me." He knew I was wearing a vest, every Agent who isn't an idiot knows that if I'm wearing clothes I'm wearing that too. "He didn't take the head shot."

Any assassin knows to do that like a body knows to breath, if they don't it's because they 'choose' to. "He's been brainwashed but I won't write him off." Whatever control Loki put him under couldn't have been complete if he managed that, and he is too valuable to condemn to death if there's a chance of getting him back.  _ S.H.I.E.L.D is nothing if it's not loyal. _

"This is out of line Director."  _A sentence I've heard before if there ever was one._  "You're dealing with forces you can't control."  _And a mute point, because it's the very reason S.H.I.E.L.D exists, to deal with forces outside the realm of control._

"You ever been in a war, Councilman?" I know the answer to that question, but the Cold War doesn't quite fit my particular definition. However even without having been a soldier I know he has a strong grasp of war. Councilman Boothe was born shortly after the end of WWII and from what I understand was named after a friend of his father's that was killed in action. "In a firefight? Did you feel an overabundance of control?"

He accepts my point without offense and moves right onto his own. "You're saying that this Asgard is declaring war on our planet?"

"Not Asgard." But it's a point I want there to be no room for interpretation about, because that would only lead to an even bigger conflict and its one I'm sure we would lose if the rest of the Asgardians are anywhere close to those we have seen so far. "Loki."

"He can't be working alone. What about the other one? His brother." This time the valid point comes from councilwoman Hawley, someone who despite her cold demeanor I respect for her no-nonsense attitude. Before she became a member of the Council she was actually one of us, she always considers the interests of those in the field in her argument.

"Our intelligence says Thor is not a hostile." Our last and only encounter with him had him pledge himself as our ally for the small price of some returned scientific equipment. "But he's worlds away, we can't depend on him to help, either." With the exception of Loki's arrival, we haven't seen any signs to indicate the arrival of another Asgardian. "It's up to us." Just like it always has been.

"Which is why you should be focusing on Phase 2." It doesn't surprise me that he returns to this point, since he was one of the biggest backers of that program. He understands the point of superior weaponry, growing up in an age where having the bigger gun was the policy of the world powers. "It was designed for exactly this..."

"Phase 2 isn't ready, our enemy is." I unfortunatelyhave to remind him, because like him I would be very happy if it was. "We're on Loki's trail and we need a response team."

"The Avengers Initiative was shut down Director." This time I find myself alone on the direction we should take.

"It was a volatile concept at the best of times which this is not." That's not a point I can argue or intend to. It's a fact to me as much as it is to them. Any team with Tony Stark in it, no matter the reliability of the oth er members, is only going to be as dependable as Tony Stark himself."

"This isn't about the Avengers." I tell them anyways. In my mind it's all about necessity. Still I'm not surprised when "We've seen the list." Is the response I get from councilman Darbinyan.

"You're running the world's greatest covert security network and you're going to leave the fate of the human race to a handful of freaks?" This may come from one councilman, but I know it's the thought shared by all of them.

"I'm not leaving anything to anyone." I promise them, however much they choose not to believe that. "We need a response team." And repeating the fact of the matter, this foe is greater than human, so we need people who are greater as well. "These people may be isolated, unbalanced even, but I believe with the right push they can be exactly what we need."

"You believe?" The councilwoman asks, half in disbelief that I would let something like faith come into my decision making, let alone with a threat this large looming over head before the other European representative adds his opinion. "War isn't won by sentiment, Director."

"No, its won by soldiers." There's a finality in that sentence, but it isn't the final point, instead it brings us to another.

"And what about the sentiment of soldiers?" She asks, leaving no doubt to who the conversation shifted to. "We advised against your treatment of that woman." Despite being a woman herself she never let anyone's gender influence her policy. "But you choose not to listen to us."

"There has never been any proof that Agent Elaine posed a threat to us." I attempt, bringing attention to the fact that in three years, we have never seen an ounce of disloyalty to S.H.I.E.L.D or the human race, and no emergence of any supernatural abilities at all, let alone that one could be considered dangerous.

"Except that she is now an emotional liability to several members on your 'response team', and is in the hands of our enemy." She fires right back.

"There will be no more discussion about this Director." Councilman Li continues for her, and the rest of them. "We may have been lenient in the past but not anymore. Something needs to be done about her."

"You're right Councilman." This time though the voice that speaks, having been silent for the conversation thus far, I can count is a friend. Councilman Pierce, the man who I replaced as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D when I convinced him we needed a direct voice on the Council. "Something does need to be done, which is why you should let us handle it."

"No Councilman Pierce, I don't think a S.H.I.E.L.D team can be trus …" Councilman Li adds, with the belief that this is a ploy for us to sneak around their order. After all Pierce has always shared the same opinion about her as I have. However I know him better than that.

"I plan to use a S.T.R.I.K.E team actually." He clarifies, silencing them all. He may believe in the usefulness of her but he is just as cold and pragmatic as councilwoman Hawley when it comes right down to it.

"Is this because of the missing MI-6 team, the one led by your son? Are you sure you aren't too close to the situation to give this order Alexander?" She asks, showing what resembles something like emotion because she knows both Alexander Sr and Jr personally just like I do.

MI-6 had a joint task force operating with S.H.I.E.L.D on American soil trying to infiltrate a terrorist cell operated by a suspected gun runner, they lost contact with the whole task force the same day Loki arrived. It's a coincidence we can't ignore.

"It's because I'm so close that I'm giving it." He offers her back, reassuring her that even his own son takes second place to the fate of the world. "They'll do what needs to be done."

"Then I suggest you make your response rapid. We all know what's at stake." She offers back in what passes is apology from her, before the screen goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> This chapter is a combination of the scene where Fury discusses the 'response team' with the World Security Council, and the alternate version of that scene which didn't make it into the movie.
> 
> In the Avengers, all the World Council members are unnamed, and since then only one has repeated her performance, and received a name. Councilwoman Hawley in Captain America The Winter Soldier. So for the sake of my story, since I can't believe Fury wouldn't know their names, I am naming them after their respective actors. Arthur Darbinyan, Donald Li and Powers Boothe. I also included a little history for the last Councilman, pulled directly from some Powers Boothe trivia.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1752 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA ELAINE

* * *

_No one came to get me._

I had no clock to judge the passage of time by, but even without one I knew it felt like I had been in that room for hours. Long after I was clean, long after I had scrubbed my skin raw, long after my eyes ran out of tears, and long after I ran out of hot water I sat there.

_And still no one came to take me back._

I think I almost wanted them to do that actually. I wanted in some strange and foolish way for him to be cruel to me again like he had been when I turned down those pills, and reaffirm that he was supposed to be my enemy.

I wanted him to do something to drive away this cloud of confusion trying to settle over me, but no one came to that damn door!

They were really just going to let me sit there unattended, and act on my own devices. They were going to trust me not to do anything stupid. That was so nice of them and it made me so angry!

I slammed the bar of soap into the wall again.

I've been sitting here in this cooling puddle of water is it dripped off my skin for a while. I continued clenching the slippery bar of soap in my hand and driving the end of it against the tile with rhythmic repetition to see how long I could pass the time.

The poor thing is less of a rounded rectangle now, and more of a waxy block of flat surfaces and dramatic edges. I'm beginning to think at this rate there won't be much left of it at all.

This time the force of impact and its slippery surface makes it shoot past my thumb and out of the back of my fist to skitter across the floor into the wall at the other end of the room, and this time I don't bother picking it up again.

 _What am I doing? There's no point to any of this._  It's not going to get me anything I want, unless what I want is to catch a cold.

The sad thing about the situation is a large part of me doesn't care at this point if I do, and I know that in my normal mindset the idea of getting sick, for the first time ever, in a place like this, would be appalling to me.

 _This isn't doing anything for you Nora..._  I tell myself, trying to bolster my weak courage and resolve.  _You need to do something productive; you've never not done something._

My conscience or whatever the voice that's saying those words is really full of crap, but it's right at the same time. Even if I am terrified I should still try. I have a phobia, that is terror itself, but I have always tried to overcome that, so why should this time be any different? Why should I try to overcome this fear any less?

_He is a Prince, so maybe being the object of his affections_ _really_ _won't be so bad._

I almost buckle at that thought and just want to go back to bashing a bar of soap into oblivion against the wall.

 _No, no I have to do something, get up Nora and do something..._  I resort to ordering myself into action now, making my feet lift me back to a standing position.  _He has my kitten._

That's what I keep reciting to myself as I make my hands go through the process of drying my hair and skin so I can dress myself without difficulty.

 _He has Jareth. He has my kitten. I need go back and take care of my kitten._  It's not a very good excuse, or anything like a rational reason, but it's just enough motivation to make me move and that's all it needs to be.

Still somehow I spent so long running that brush through my hair with that thought that I let myself drift off into the repetition. It was the sensation of dull discomfort finally forming on my scalp that brought me back to myself.

 _I can't do that anymore either._  I'm here, so I really need to be here. No more drifting off, no more trying to escape reality.

Still, the resolve I built up shrinks back as my hand reaches out to rap on the door. There is a frightened tremor in it, one that I drive away with a frustrated hiss and the cracking of my knuckles as I squeeze it into a fist. I might still be a coward on the inside, but I can be a really determined coward if I try.

"M-Mister Blackwood?" I call out after I knock against the barrier and a second later I am rewarded with the sound of someone shifting on the other side of the door. "I'm haur, ye need somethin'?"

"No. I'm ready to go back to...the room...please." That last word is so hard to get out, but I succeed when I remind myself that I am being determined now.

"Okay..." I hear that familiar thick accent, confirming for me that it's really my Scottish bodyguard out there, but then his voice continues to speak words now a bit muffled because they are no longer seem to be aimed at the door but at someone else. "...Conversations ower Doctur, ye need tae gie back tae wark."

I knew exactly who was out there with him the second he said the word Doctor, I didn't need to hear the other man's voice to confirm it, even though I can.

It's 'Erik' out there standing on the other side of the door. It's 'Erik' saying he that wants to see me first, to make sure I'm doing okay and that I'm happy. It's 'his Erik', sounding like my Erik, but it's not my Erik, and I don't want to see 'him' dressed in a lie.

I don't want to look at those eyes, or that body again anytime soon. It acts like it's the man I know, and the man it took away from me.

"No. No, no visitors please, no. Send him away." I speak those words to the door, my hands pressed to the barrier, as I let my forehead rest against it, and feel silent tears caress my cheeks as they leak out of my closed eyes. I say those words calmly, not letting the sound of the tears on my skin infect my tone. I say them just loud enough to know my guard can hear them, so he will send my 'friend' away.

"What? No, Nora, it's me Erik, don't you...?" He pleads genuinely surprised that I wouldn't want to see him as much as he seems to want to see me, and his tone almost makes it sound like he thought I was joking and any minute would say 'just kidding'.

But he doesn't get any more words out, at least none that are directed at me.

"Th' Lady said nae Doc, time tae gagh." Comes that heavy masculine voice of Duncan again before it's followed by a sharp whistle that he uses get someone's attention.

It only takes a moment before I can hear the approaching sounds of additional footsteps and muffled voices of what has to be some of the other soldiers mixing with Erik's annoyed protests that, voices that grow fainter and fainter as the distance between them and the door increases while they usher him back to whatever he is supposed to be working on.

"He's gain miss." Come the words I was waiting to hear at last. After that I am finally able to make myself take the handle of the door in between my hands and pull on it, the moment of tears and their evidence hastily wiped away from view.

_I'm being determined now, just keep saying it and you'll get through this. You'll see. You'll be just as brave as everybody said you were._

After I started the process of opening the door I feel him finish it for me, the door moving much quicker as the hand he must have had on it applies light force on the other and not a second later the view outside the door expands to include the sight of him as he nods and moves to the side as he waits patiently for me to step out of the room.

There is a small pause at first that I feel the need to fill with a thank you. Its one that isn't just for him opening the door for me, and he seems to understand that too, given the soft tug pulling at the corner of his mouth as he smirks, and then the shrug that goes with it.

"If ye dornt want tae see yer friends that's yer business." He says those words in an obvious attempt to try to be understanding, or kind toward me given what he must have puzzled out about my situation and for that effort I am grateful but I am being determined now.

So I tell him the truth. "I have no friends." And I tell him this with dry eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> There wasn't any real opportunity for pictures this chapter since most of it was Nora's internal struggling. However there are still three on the Photobucket.
> 
> DUNCAN'S SCOTTISH ACCENT TRANSLATION  
> "I'm haur, ye need somethin'?"/"I'm here, you need something?"
> 
> "...Conversations ower Doctur, ye need tae gie back tae wark."/"...Conversations over doctor, you need to get back to work."
> 
> "Th' Lady said nae Doc, time tae gagh."/"The Lady said no Doc, time to go."
> 
> "He's gain miss."/"He's gone miss."
> 
> "If ye dornt want tae see yer friends that's yer business."/"If you don't want to see your friends that your business."


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1757 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

CLINT BARTON

CAGED IN HIMSELF

* * *

_She tasted, crisp._  I can see her, 'he' can see her, and that is the thought in 'his' head as 'he' watches one of the merc's escort her back to the cage. What her blood on 'his' tongue tasted like, and if it would taste the same if 'he' tasted it now.

'He' can't decide if she tasted more like honey-dew melons or maple syrup, and I want to put a my knife through 'his' goddamned eyes just for looking at her like that!

I'll be damned if I care that 'his' body is my body. 'He' used it to hurt her and all I could do was scream at 'him' in my head! I couldn't even close my eyes!

I couldn't stop myself, and I tried. God did I try.

Even when she surprised 'us' both and hit me back with a hot pan and a table I couldn't make this 'thing' controlling me stop!

Then 'it' made me carve the tracker out of her thigh and that still wasn't enough for 'him'! 'He' actually got angry because she wasn't paying attention to 'him' anymore!

So 'it' tried to do the one thing that would get her attention! 'It' tried to make me rape my 'sister'! If I was more than a consciousness trapped in my own mind I would have thrown up at that point. As it stands, there is one thing I am actually grateful to this Asgardian bastard pulling my strings for and its that he didn't let 'him' do that.

I'd never be able to face her again if I did, I'm not even sure I can anyways. She trusted me and 'it' used that against her!

If her forgiveness comes with bullets or blades attached to it I might just accept that from her, 'I' made her bleed so it only seems fair. God knows I would murder someone slowly for doing what 'I' did to her.  _I'm compromised as hell at this point and I know it._

I just hope I still get the chance, because seeing her now she looks like she's giving up and she can't do that yet because I can feel a moment of weakness in my fingers!  _Wait for me Princess, please dammit just wait!_

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1759 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI  


* * *

When the guard returned with her he knocked on the door first, announcing his presence before asking to enter, then he wisely awaited my permission and held the door open for her to walk in. He was quick to close it behind her too but still she stands in waiting.

She has been standing there since the echo of that latch sliding home faded. A large beige towel has been set around her shoulders, but even resting that high on her body it is wide enough that it hides all but what is present below her knees, the casually folded creases of an emerald-green silk, and a pair of bare feet.

She is also fidgeting with fear, and every second it continues only inspires my further annoyance. "Sit and eat, there is food for you here." I sigh out doing my best to spare her the hostile edge of my mood as I pour myself another measure of wine.

The goblet and the decanter hold within it a mead I am particularly fond of. It is flavored by honey, red raspberries, black currants and dark tart cherries that are all mementos of another life. Just a piece of the many small luxuries that make up the contents of my supply cache. I am a Prince, and I may be able to endure hardships, but I see no reason why I must go out of my way to subject myself to them.

There is a hesitancy in her first few steps, before there is a show of confidence forced into the rest of them, both of which only serve to annoy me more. Her fear of me, and her need to force herself to overcome it.

I want to tell her that she should be honored by my affections! I want to tell her that she has no right to spurn them! I do not want to drive her away more though which is why I have resorted to diluting my frustrations with substances.

They finally bring her to me, her deceptive steps, and she once again settles for standing but this time at the opposite side of the desk I am lounging at.

"A-Ar-are these p-pomegranate seeds and apples?" She asks making specific note of the two fruit items in the food offered to her for some reason.

"Yes, I believe they are." I offer back, a bit short but still calm before I take another sip of my wine. "If this does not meet your particular tastes I will arrange for something else." I add as an afterthought, sounding as dispassionate and bored about it as I truly feel right now.

"Is this... suppose to be symbolism?" My intentions to ignore her fade in the wake of rising curiosity at that question, and I offer her an inquiring glance. "Why would it be symbolism?"

The question and my renewed interest inspires a bit of a stutter from her again but this one I do not mind as much because it seems to be born more of embarrassment than fright. "We-well... there's a-a myth..." She offers seeming to have some expectation that I am familiar with what she is talking about.

"I have not found myself interested in the tales of this realm in quite some time my dear. Which fruit do you speak of?"

"Uhm…Both..." She offers meekly before my look encourages her to continue.

The tale she weaves I quickly find less than appealing. "Th-the apple, it-it's the fruit of knowledge. It's what the Devil used to trick the first woman, Eve. It's what brought sin and pain into the world." Her hand starts to move and I watch it pluck a red seed from the top of her dessert and take it in her finger for study before her words continue "A-a-and pom-pomegranate seeds are w-what trapped the mai-maiden of Spring in Hell."

There is a tick in my cheek as I silently process this information. She paints me as the monster in her mind, I know she does. By Devil, or any other name she accuses me of being a villain here, and all the ire I had been trying to drown rises back because of those accusations, until I realize that they are not so.

I watch, at first confused and dismayed then thrilled by understanding at what I see. She presses that crimson seed to her lips and takes it between her teeth, before it disappears from sight as her lips close around it and I see the reflexive swallow of her throat.

"Symbolism indeed." I utter, half in awe and half in humor at the display only to watch her nod quite enthusiastically.

"Yes. I-I..." She pauses as her eyes drift to the stain the small berry left on her fingertips then lifts them back to mine. "I think I'm okay with this. I am so sorry for before, for being that weak..." she quickly volunteers an apology, one I no longer care to even ask for, but accept with muted pleasure. "...but I do want to give you that chance. I want to know who I am."

"My dear..." Hearing that declaration I finally let myself stand, a gentle smile tugging at my lips before it fades away to a neutral expression once more.

"You may label yourself weak..." I can feel her eyes track my movement even while I see them do so, and more impressively I see her feet remain fixed to the floor.

"But I have known shield wives..." My hand moves, and her feet still do not."...and Valkyries..." She lets my bare hand touch her! The outer edge of my thumb meets her skin, and traces the path her tears would take, if there were any to fall, but there are not. "...with less heart then you show now."

Still she stands there before me, enduring this touch even though I know it frightens her. She just closes her eyes, shivering for a moment and breathes a little heavier, but she does not pull away from her fear or me. She faces it and endures.

She even endures as I slide my hand under her chin and pressing the knuckle of my thumb upwards, gently urging her to turn her face back to mine, a suggestion that she understands comes with the request for her to open her eyes. "You are not weak little one, and you will never call yourself that again, yes?"

"Yes..." I never thought a single word could be so pleasing to my ears. I am not sure which one I like more. "...Loki."


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1805 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA

* * *

He felt cold when he touched me.  _He's always felt cold when he's touched me._  I've noticed that several times, whether there are gloves or cloth between our skins, he has always felt cold.

Not the frozen kind of cold like one would expect from an ice-cube or a pile of snow of course. I suppose it should be called cool rather than cold. He just doesn't feel warm to the touch, as if his body doesn't seem to produce as much heat as the rest of ours.

I thought at first that it might have been because I was sick with a fever, or the place we were in was just that cold outside of my room; but I've been out of the room and it's not cold enough for that. Also, I've been around him a lot, and I don't see any signs of sickness in either of us to explain it.

He is just not warm. So I used that knowledge to empower myself. In my mind, living things are supposed to warm when they touch you, so the cool things aren't alive and somehow that made it okay.

It's a lie I can tell my condition, to give me the courage I need. It's pathetic, I know, but it works.

It let finally me feel skin! I've wanted to do that for years.  _I've always wanted it, it's all I wanted._  Even with this fear crippling me. I'd dream of it, and it was so beautiful it would always leave me waking up crying.

Those dreams were wonderful because I could touch people in those dreams. I could hold hands or high-five someone and pat their shoulder and it was okay, there was no fear! Sometimes I would just dream that I was pressing my palm to another, nothing else and I could hold that for hours, I could feel every detail, right down to the sweat and the pulse and the lines of their fingertips under mine.

Those dreams were what made me fight it. I wanted it gone more than anything. I wanted it more than my memories. If that was the price to hold someone's hand, then I would never remember.

Those dreams gave me as much hope as heartbreak. A part of me always  _needed_  to be able to touch people again.

So the fact that it was  _his_ skin that formed the first lingering impression of what it felt like in my mind, that shouldn't matter all. I wouldn't let that matter.  _I am determined now._

I was determined enough to handle it is long is possible, until he was the one who pulled away first.

He withdrew because he knew I couldn't handle much more. He understood my limits even if I was stubbornly trying to ignore them. He wasn't going to push me that far.

At least not in that regard.

After he pulls his hand away he lingers in front of me, offering me a soothing and understanding smirk when my immediate reaction as to take a steadying breath and let my hands come up to clutch the towel still on my shoulders, like that motion will somehow afford me some sort of protective barrier.

Once he was sure I was alright, a conclusion that he seemed to come to only after seeing that I did first he stepped a bit to the side and motions in the direction of the desk and the seat that waits for it in front of me to make use of.

But what I see more than a chair is the food on that tray beyond it. I don't know how long I've been here, but I know my body, and I know it's really hungry. Not surprisingly but still a bit embarrassingly there is something in my reaction to the sight of food that makes him chuckle. "Sit and eat, I know you must be famished."

 _Well, he isn't wrong._  I think being so stressed made me forget about my appetite, but the smell of food has made my stomach feel like it's going to start eating itself in rebellion if I don't give it an alternative and quickly. He said famished but the word I would have gone with is starving.

I can't blame my stomach for its reaction either, because under the scrutiny of my eyes it looks like a small feast has been spread out before me.

There is a bowl of what looks like roasted pumpkin seeds, a plate of at least a dozen flaky pastries set in a white sauce with sprigs of dill, and if I had to guess, I bet they are stuffed with something. Another steaming mug of what I recognize as the same drink from before, the Wassail. A tray of triangles that look to be dark chocolate tarts with pomegranate seeds, and of course the container of those golden-colored apples from earlier.

There is also a plate set out, waiting patiently for me to make use of it and the bundle of utensils that sits on it wrapped in a cloth napkin. It makes me wonder a little if this food came from a restaurant somehow because it just doesn't seem to fit here.

But as interesting as that puzzle may be, thinking about it won't fill my empty stomach any quicker. I'm hungry enough that I don't even bother asking if it's safe. If I have an allergic reaction to it, I'll just summon some courage and ask Loki for some of my medicine. I imagine since 'Clint' told him everything else he probably told him about that sulfate allergy too.

After filling my plate I find out I was right about the pastry. My knife splits it open and my fork peels a piece away to a better view to judge the ingredients.

There is salmon, which with the first bite I find out has been smoked before being rolled in a white dill sauce. The crust of the bread has a buttery taste, and I can see pieces of egg and asparagus. My tongue also recognizes onion, mustard, mayonnaise, cream cheese and lemon. There also seems to be a light layer of salt and pepper that decorated the top of the fish before they stacked the rest and wrapped in its breaded shell. It's absolutely delicious! I don't even care if it's a bribe.

I devoured the first one so quickly, that I actually went to spear another bite on my fork only to realize I had nothing left on the plate, and would have to get another one. There wasn't a moment that went unobserved.

But instead of making fun of me for it like he had every right and opportunity to, he merely smirked a little beyond his goblet and pushed the platter closer to me.

I appreciate the gesture, but there is something else that catches my attention and he notices that too, commenting on the fact that I am worrying my lip a little. "What is it?"

My question sort of answers itself, which is convenient because I don't know how to ask it exactly. As he asked his question he lowered his goblet, and my eyes followed it. "You want some of my wine?"

I'm immediately filled with a strange sense of inadequacy at those words, like I didn't even have the right to ask for that, or imply that I wanted to ask but now that it's out in the open I have to say something in explanation. The best I can think of is, "If it's not an imposition..?"

"Hm..." Is the first semblance of a response I get from him if you don't include the wide smirk and chuckle "No, it is fine." He adds seeing my apprehension, before he lets his eyes glance around, clearly seeking something.

"But I suppose, as this will be your first re-acquaintance with Asgardian wine..." They settle on an empty Ball jar, and after a moment of consideration he reaches out and takes it in his hand. "…We should fashion you something of an appropriate glass."

If I was going to ask what he meant by that it was cut off by the visual display of it. He has the base of the glassware held in one hand by his thumb and index finger, with his palm resting under it, almost touching but not quite making contact.

The fascinating part isn't how he is touching it or isn't, it's the shimmering green light in the space between. As I watch, the hand not holding it draws away, his fingers rising to fill the space as his palm drops almost like they are pulling something, which they are!

The lid of the jar ripples and sways like a liquid, loosing its definition before solidifying again into a decorative silver band, while the spiraling teeth of the jar seem to stretch and multiply as they wrap around the flute of it in gently descending lines. As the jar shrinks further to about half its height, the bottom which except for a slight mounding in the middle maintains its shape it is drifts lower on the end of a liquid stream and solidifies into the stem.

I'm left a bit slack-jawed at the realization that I just saw him defy physics and reason, by transmuting a canning jar into a really nice looking wine glass! "So that's what magick looks like..." I didn't even realize I spoke the thought until I heard him chuckle at it. "I-I mean, I..." and the embarrassment I feel from uttering that phrase wells up like a geyser, and given the tingling in my cheeks my stutters is not the only way it shows.

"I could show you more..." The offer comes out and draws a bit of a surprised gasp from me with it, making his smirk grow even more."...if you like?"

The offer inspires an idea in me. "If I like? I-I can c-choose what I want to see?" I get another smile for him at that and an agreeing nod. "Yes, of course."

"I want to see how you did it." And a frown.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

1814 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

LOKI

* * *

I do not need any elaboration on that otherwise ambiguous statement, I know what she meant. I can see it in her eyes, and in her frightened demeanor. I can see it in her courage too, I just did not expect.

She wants to see how I conquered her friends minds. It is a very brave request for her to make, because as far as she knows I may well just let the demonstration involve her own.

It is also a risky request for another reason, one she is not aware of. I do not want _them_ to see her, I do not want _HIM_ to see her. The scepter is my means of communication with them, it is how they see me. It is why I have not once brought it in this room.

"Is this request being paid for with a promise?" I finally ask her after a moment’s pause. I had considered fashioning an illusion for her eyes, but knowing who she is, if she retained any semblance of her abilities no matter how minute, she would be able to recognize the difference in energies on sense alone. The aura of my magic would not feel at all like that of the Tesseract's and they kept her around it enough I have no doubt she is familiar with it even if she does not realize it.

I can see the conclusion she comes to right when I stop being able to see her face. She lets her head droop back down in disappointment, even as a smile tries to claim its place on her lips. "You're not going to..." and then she shakes her head and lifts it back to me, that smile still there, but her eyes so full of sadness.” I can't, I-I only have one promise lef..."

"You have two." I correct her before she can finish, a bit to her surprise it seems, but the blessed vanishing of that sadness. "I am not that cruel Arnora..." I say with a soft smile of my own. "...I will not accept a payment so great for the right to bathe."

"But y-you want it for t-this?" Her tone sounds a bit confused as much as it is dismayed and offended. I am actually a little pleased by the last one.

"Yes..." but I sober back up at the seriousness of this topic. “I would. I would not acquiesce to this request for anything less. What you ask for comes with risks."

“Oh...” The word precedes her recoiling gesture, but a very small one it seems to be. After a bit of internal struggle passing over her eyes as she nervously wrings her hands her gaze shifts and comes back to meet my expectant one. "W-will will it hurt me?"

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

1816 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

When he said it would come with 'risks' I came quickly to an assumption on exactly what that word meant in this situation. It may not be right, but it seemed to be a fairly sound assumption to me. It would do to my mind what it did to my friends, it would make me a puppet. 

Did I want to be a puppet? the answer to that was 'no, of course not' but at the same time the answer couldn't possibly be that simple.

I didn't want to give up my free will to this man, but at the same time, isn't that what I just did? A puppet with a will or a puppet without is still a puppet and his ability to pull my strings wasn't a question of if he could so much as it was how and when he would.

Maybe it would be better for me this way. I could say I couldn't do anything, that I was helpless and I had no control. That sounds better than saying I gave into him, that I chose to turn against my friends.

"W-will will it hurt me?" It’s a very legitimate question, even if the point is a bit of moot since I've basically made up my mind. I think I was just trying to get the information so I could prepare myself.

"No."

 _Apparently I don't need to._ The expression of confusion is clear to him so before I can ask he elaborates for me. "It would not hurt you, you have nothing to worry about. Your mind would be immune to its influence." He continues, "The scepter has been tuned to affect the physiology of a human’s brain."

 _Oh, so his belief that I'm not human actually has a benefit for me after all. I guess that’s good?_  He hasn't used it on me because he believes it won't work. That answers the question of why he never did it before, but it doesn't answer the other question. _I am determined._ "Th-Then what is the risk?"

"The risk of letting you see it..." he offers as he sets down the glass in his hand and holds it out in clear invitation for my hand to replace its former position in his palm.”...is that they may see you too."

The question I have to ask is obvious, even if I would prefer to avoid those kinds of simple questions. "They?" ‘They’ implies people, or 'people' in the sense of a 'being of intelligence'. ‘They’ also implies that there are more than one. 'They' introduces new risks and new concerns. "You’re not alone?"

"No." He interrupts his own sentence with a smirk. "...but yes as well. For now they are still far away from here. The scepter allows me to communicate with my allies, but these allies are not the kind to accommodate a change in plans, and you my beautiful dear, are not part of the plan."

"Oh..." I don't know what else to say to that. He's left it unsaid, but I understand the subtext where torture or death might be more than a possibility. "Never mind then, I changed my mind."

I really don't like the smirking expression he gives me when I say that meek sentence, but I don't dispute it. _I'm not that determined._


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1819 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI

* * *

After I made her see reason, and to dissuade the shame from her cheeks I offered her the wine she asked for earlier. She accepts the offer again, but where once she seemed almost eager for it, now there is hesitation occupying her eyes.

"There is no pressure for you to drink it my dear." That catches her attention, bringing her slightly surprised gaze to mine."...or offense if you do not." Surprise which transforms into embarrassment on her cheeks once again.

"I-I.." she starts but then stops herself, closing her eyes and taking a breath before they open again and she offers me a meek smile of apology "Thank you. I've just never actually been able to have wine before, with my sulfate allergy."

"No?" That did come as a bit of a surprise. It was not an important piece of knowledge for me to gain from the killer I control so I did not think to ask it on him, but I would have assumed she at least partook from time to time, even on the earth's meager swill. "Then I suppose you are blessed. Little here can compare to the quality of Asgardian cuisine."

The shift in her temperament is quick, but distinct. Her brows furrow with offense before she can conquer it and smooth her features back to neutrality once more. "Maybe you just had a bad chef." This shift is something beautiful to me.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1820 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA

* * *

I didn't mean to say that, I didn't mean that at all! The words just rolled off my tongue quicker than the thought appeared in my mind.

I felt a little annoyed that he was insulting part of earth's culture, specifically a part that I was very fond of too. I understand how he believes he is a god from a paradise compared to us, but that doesn't mean everything here has to be mud on his boots.

Then the last syllable was out and my eyes were even wider than his! Then another second passed and my heart started beating again with the sound of his chuckle.

Oh thank god he's not mad! I'm not gonna die! This cycle of stress and relief always ends with comfort, but I'm beginning to worry with the frequency of it might just do more harm than good in the long run.

"I am sorry." He intercepts my sentence and finishes the word with me. "I did not mean to offend you. I forgot they said you enjoy that art. It was not a condemnation of your own skills my dear. Simply that however carefully prepared, a dish will always be limited by the quality of the ingredients available."

His hands weren't exactly idle in that small speech. One was reaching, and when he finished its goal was held out in offering for me. It's one of those apples. "These are from Asgard. Try one, it will prove my point better than my words ever could."

 _Is this symbolism? I think I'm okay with this. Will it hurt me?_  These thoughts recycle through my mind again, followed by another newer one.  _It doesn't matter. I already said yes._

 _It's just an apple Arnora, you're determined remember? Wait, an apple?_  It's a nagging this time not a twinge. It's an apple in golden jeweled hands, and a gentle aura somehow split between three faces that aren't faces, its nervousness and giddy joy. It's suddenly gone, leaving me feeling shaken.

A sensation against my leg is what brings me back with a bit of surprise. I sort of forgot about the fact my kitten was still here, and he caught me off guard when he apparently woke up from his nap and rubbed against my leg in affection. Which was sweet of him, and completely undeserving of the kick it almost got when I reacted with too much alarm!

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1821 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI

* * *

The scrabbling hiss of a sound that appears under the table following her soft yelp makes it rather clear what just occurred unseen. So does the appearance of that tiny weight landing in my lap.

But before the creature can get too comfortable on my legs I betray it in its escape attempt and take it in my hand, lifting it up from beneath the surface of the desk and offering it back to its ashamed and concerned caretaker.

Whatever feelings of annoyance the mammal had for me fade after about three seconds of it feeling her fingers running through his fur. "Thank you." She offers me after a moment, letting her eyes meet mine even as she nuzzles her cheek against the press of its head. My response is just a soft smiling nod in return, it conveys my silent 'of course' well enough.

I see no problem with letting her comfort the creature, as it also comforts her as well. In the mean time I can occupy myself with other things. I did offer her an apple, and my desire for her to eat it has not changed. However, given what she has been through producing a blade of any size to cut it for her does not seem wise.

I do have other means at my disposal however and she did make a request to see more magick.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1822 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA

* * *

I'm blinking, specifically I'm blinking in disbelief.  _He just..._  Even the mildly frustrated patting of my kitten's paw isn't really getting through to me after what I just saw.  _He just tapped an apple on its head and it split into eight perfect pieces! And the skin is even rolling off into neat curls too!_

"We have more apples, shall I do it again?" That sentence made my eyes leave the fruit and find his, only to also find him smirking rather broadly at my expression. I must look like some slack jawed child or something to him. I mean, I'm sure to him it's completely inconsequential. But to me it's something incredible, and a bit intimidating too. If he acts like things like that are nothing, I'm not sure I want to see what he considers something.

"N-no, no thank you." The tone, or maybe the words, or maybe none of it really matters, but it doesn't change the fact he noticed something in that sentence and is now looking at me with curious concern. "I mean, it's marvelous, what you can do, but it's just…" His smile spreads with casual gentleness as he seems to come to some sort of understanding.

"Too much too quickly?" He offers, and I nod in confirmation with embarrassment now hot in my cheeks. "Then we will slow down." He says it likes it's something so simple. He follows it with a bit of a chuckle at my expression of surprise in response. "I do want you to remember yourself Arnora, and there is much I'm eager to share with you, but…" He pauses as he takes one of the apple slices in his fingers and holds it out to me. "...overwhelming you will do neither of us much good."

I'm not sure how to respond to that. There's gratitude there in what I'm feeling but suspicion, concern, curiosity, and the ever present undercurrent of fear as well. On top of all of that I think I'm developing a hunger headache! It's not one of the twinges preceding an episode, or an honest headache, just that dull heaviness sitting all around my skull. It makes my decision to accept the apple and agree all the more compelling, but it seems I'm not the only one to do so.

I barely finished the 'of course' in my response when Jareth strained his little neck and body out of my grasp, curling his nails into the side of my palms as he used my hands to prop himself higher, and starts licking the exposed flesh of the apple!

Needless to say watching my cat try and devour an apple was a surprising sight to both of us; but my concern melts away when Loki's frown does the same and transforms into a smirking chuckle directed at my kitten. "What an odd little creature you pet is." He smirks even more as he pulls the fruit away, despite Jareth's little growls and pleading grip, offering him a scratch under the chin in meager compensation. "I thought for sure his species was carnivorous."

"Uh, well, Jareth's more of an omnivore really. He just likes food, a lot." I stammer a response distractedly, noting oddly that it's without a stutter this time. I'm distracted because while I've know my kitten to examine fruit before simply because it was something I was willing to eat so it might be good, he never actually went after it much. The only real memory I have of him going after an apple was when I left him unattended for a SECOND with a bowl of stuffing that just came out of the turkey.  _Maybe Loki is right about 'his' food being better than ours._

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1824 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI

* * *

That damnable little mammal almost did more harm than good when it sought out the magic in that fruit! I can not have her become suspicious of Idunn's apples, and refuse to eat them! If she does that it will be near impossible for me to restore her strength, less so in the limited time I have to do it. If she was not so attached to the creature I might have considered killing it for that mistake!

I suppose I will just have to make sure I feed its addiction well from now on. To such a low life form, the magic coursing through it no doubt feels like a type of opiate, and like any opiate it's blissful effects will fade into harsh withdrawal symptoms. Again the creature is lucky it is so loved by her, because I would not cater to its needs otherwise and simply let it suffer through them.

She  _finally_  took the apple I offered her, reaching a little higher to meet my hold on it. I had to hold it out of the kitten's eager reach after all, and then to keep it from pursuing the fruit I tore apart one of the salmon croissants I had brought here for her, the smell of the fish inside was enough to distract its instinctual brain away from the aura of magic it sought. One appetite overcoming the other as all my annoyance with the feline fades as I watch her eyes light up at the first taste of that fruit.

I will admit certain eagerness when I saw her teeth test the strength of that flesh before sinking into its surface, and a certain delight as she stifles the sound of bliss that tries to follow the first taste.

She may not be aware of it, but her body yearns for the magic of those apples as much as I do for her's. She has been a creature starved, living here so long among mortals with no avenue but to become as a mortal. A terrible fate compounded by terrible fate.  _What cruelty the Norn's wove for this one._

"The taste is to your liking then?" I ask, drawing attention to her reaction while at the same time not acknowledging it out loud. She is embarrassed enough by the fact that she let slip that tiny moan as it is, if the flush in her cheeks are an indication.

"Y-yes, it's very good. You were right." So is her humble response. I doubt though that 'very good' as anywhere near her true opinion of that apple, but insisting that she voices it serves me no purpose and will gain me nothing at the moment so I do not see the need for the effort. Instead I just extend another. "I have more then enough, you're welcome to as many as you like."

I make a point of not allowing my delight to show when she takes a second slice to eat. However my focus does catch on something else which provokes a different response. As she reaches out her wrist is once again exposed to me, and offers me the sight of that scar!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1827 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I've been making a point of paying attention to his expressions so I don't miss anything, and because of that I didn't miss the hardness overtaking his expression, even if it didn't exactly change it. It happened when I reached for the apple, which was strange because I thought that was okay for me to do.  _Was I wrong, was it a test somehow? Did I fail?_

"L-Loki…?" The timidness in my voice seems to catch his attention again, and with a bit of surprise. Apparently he hadn't even realized he was doing it, and after the moment of realization passes over his hard expression melts into one of apologetic regret.

"I am sorry, it is not you that upsets me so." He offers, before his eyes drift back to my wrist. "Merely the existence of that scar."

 _Oh._  At the mention of it my eyes go there too. I know exactly what scar he is talking about and can understand why it might bother him. I've had people comment on it before, usually in pity. I even agree that in terms of scars, the size of it makes it look like it came from a painful wound.

It might have been too, except I was never aware of its creation. It was already a scar when I woke up. It's only ever been that to me; a discoloration on my skin and the mild awareness that it wasn't always there. It was as inconsequential to me is a freckle.

"How did you come by it if I may ask?" The quickness that my eyes fly back to his prompt another question from him. "Are you even aware?"

"Yes." I answer back, then mentally cringe at the tone it's spoken in. Its just, I couldn't help the moment of offense when he implied I might not know something about my own body! Its a silly reaction though because we've already established that there is a lot that I don't 'know'.

"T-They.." I pause and make myself take a steadying breath, trying to overcome the nervous stutter that invaded that word.  _I'm done with those, no more._  "They said it was from a burn."

I can tell by the turn of his brow that he knows as well as I do that my scar there does not look like a burn scar, and in that he is right, but there's more details he doesn't have that they gave me. "There was debris, from the explosion. A piece of hot metal landed there. They had to cover it with a skin graft."

"And what part of that knowledge is yours?" The offense is stronger this time, and I can't smoother it from my expression. So instead I bite my cheek and turn my face away before I say something stupid.

Its not a luxury he gives me this time, a chance to rein myself in, instead he pursues me with more words. "I am not trying to be cruel..."  _Liar._  "My dear, I am trying to find you."

"But I'm right here!" I chuckle weakly, losing my wall of strength for a second and almost caving back into that tempting desire to cry again.  _Why do I want to cry so much around him? Why does everything around him always feel so heavy?_  "This is me..." I plead that point again, pressing my palms to my chest almost in emphasis to that point. "This is what I am, all I am Loki, right here."

"I assure you child, this..." he motions lightly at my body. "...is not all that you are."

The frustration peaks once again at those words, and to avoid my also rising desire to say or do something stupid, I instead bury my face in my hands, letting my fingers drag their way through my hair.

I said I would give him a chance to prove me wrong, to convince me that what he believes is right, and I do intend to let him try.

Except I know he's wrong, it will never work, so I still feel the need to argue it back! I'm human, I'm Nora, I'm just what I am, memory to prove it or not.

 _...Prove it..._  He is so convinced of himself, that what he believes is true so he must have some proof, right?

"What's your proof?" The question makes his eyebrows rise, as well as expand the stretch of his smile in amusement, but I ignore my uncertainty and ask it again. "You do have proof? Right?"

The silence stretches on, filled only by me at first in the sharp edge of each breath I take and the sound of me worrying my own lip.  _I can actually hear that in my head it's so quiet._

Then he chuckles and I don't know if I could have made it any worse. "You are challenging me now?"

Afraid is the understatement of the century! "What?! No, n-no..." My mind immediately replaying what happened before when I didn't do exactly what he wanted, and it's why when I see his height rise out of that chair on the other side of the desk I try to do the same.

Try being the major word in the effort. I managed to get out of the chair, but only only by a couple inches. In my panicked haste I sort of forgot I was in a dress and stepped on the bottom of it, creating an unexpected tension in the material that dropped me back down into the seat with a bit of a yelp!

The sound less from the falling of my body, and more the instinctive approach of his to catch me.

He doesn't catch my fall though, thank God. Seeing my fear spike again he stops himself mid action, but it doesn't stop his momentum completely. His emotions seem to continue to surging forward. I can tell from the tight imitation of a smile and the way his knuckles crack as they form a fist.

"You have no idea how you test me now do you Arnora?" He says it whether calmly, yet laced with so much angry passion it almost seems to be a solid substance in those words, and makes me want to test just how firm the material of this chair back really is!

The calmness leaves him completely now. "I cannot even touch you! They have denied me that much! I should..." But then it comes back as his eyes look at mine again. Its replaced by gentleness, and heartbreak.

"No." He says, shifting but resisting the urge to let himself move so much as a step closer to me. "No Kjære. Do not lose your courage, do not let me drive it from you. I love your bravery so much more than your fear. It is beautiful to me. Please keep it."

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1833 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

Her response is so endearing. She feigns a somewhat convincing smile and tells me she'll try but it is the words that follow them that truly catch my attention. She added a title of respect to that sentence, she said 'My Lord'.

I have not heard those words leave her lips in over six hundred years and I did not realize I could miss a set of syllables so much. It is what makes the next ones I hear after a knock so annoying. "Sairrr,we got a problem."

"It can wait." Is my almost angry reply to that accented fool how dared to interrupt us at this momentous breakthrough. I temper my intensity back down as my ears hear her breath hitch at the sound. Perhaps the soldiers irritating timing is not as poor a thing as I think it is. As much as I dislike the idea, perhaps my absence might do her some good.

The next sentence I hear turns that despicable possibility into more of a certainty. "Sairrr, it's abit th' Lady." Apparently I have things I need to deal with after all.

However before that, I do owe the lady for her request that I provide proof, and would hate to become remiss in my duties as her host.

Ignoring the fading of that hopeful expression that flickers in her eyes I pretend to myself that I do not see it. Instead I offer her an apologetic smile and a bit of a bow. "My apologies, but it seems I need to excuse myself for a while, May we resume this conversation when I return?"

Her response is a quick, almost too enthusiastically delivered nod and smile.

She is not very good at deception, my beautiful one, she has been too long without practice. But the effort she makes is still so endearing to me.

Also endearing, in that it validates my gambit as the way her eyes widen in shock a half a second before the sight is cut off by the clicking of the door latch behind me. A reaction inspired by a simple sentence.

"Fear not Arnora, for I too 'will never relent' in the pursuit of what matters to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES TO THE READERS:  
> While I am sure all, or at least almost all of you have read an Asgardian fanfiction at this point that had the word 'Kjære' in it somewhere, in case you haven't, this is what it means. Kjære = Beloved in Old Norse.
> 
> Also, I don't think I need to bother with Duncans accent translations this chapter is they are pretty simple to figure out, if anyone has any trouble with them though let me know and i will be sure to change that and include them in the chapter.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1835 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

I knew when I knocked I was tempting fate a little but I did it anyways, because I knew that if I didn't it wouldn't be a risk but a certainty. There's a difference between chumming the water and dumping blood in a shark tank.

After I delivered her back to that room I still had her rucksack with me to deal with, and I just tossed it under a bench figuring a woman's wet dress and some slightly emptier containers of soap could be dealt with later.

I had gun maintenance I could do and needed to send two of the boys in civi's up above for another another perimeter check and make sure the guard had changed over down here.

So I did that, and then I came back, and couldn't help but notice something was off about the bag. The creases in its surface didn't quite look right, and the knot looked like a sloppy imitation of mine.

It didn't take me and my men long to track down the little piece of shit. One of the Rising Tide hackers we gathered to set up our security system and keep an eye out for eyes on us. A hipster with a beard that he thought made him into a man, and misplaced arrogance about how necessary he really was, cowering in a service closet, with his hands up and hopefully asking for parley. Like that meant something when he was holding her hairbrush in an evidence bag.

Little fucker tried to sneak out of here with DNA evidence for S.H.I.E.L.D! Once I told the boss that, in less colorful terms, it wasn't my head on the chopping block anymore.

I left him in a room with my men and Terrance, my second in command and our field medic who he was going to need, because Barton walked in that room and I wasn't going to tell him to leave it.

The sound of him begging for mercy when we walk back in makes me even more confident in my decision to leave Terrance in there to make sure we didn't kill this guy before we got what we needed.

Not that I think it's going to take all that much. Looking at him I can tell he hasn't even suffered a paper cut yet. He's just been cuffed down, with all but his boxers removed and the plans for his future drawn out with a sharpie marker on his skin. Barton hasn't even finished selecting his tool yet, but I got to give him some credit, for a guy who takes the long shots he sure has a grasp of the personal methods.

"Agent Barton" Loki 's voice appears after a moment. Until now he has simply been observing the man with tension in his brows and a stiff set to his mouth, then he turns to the S.H.I.E.L.D agent who is testing the grain on a power sander in his hands and shakes his head. "Thank you for your enthusiasm but that won't necessary."

Agent blue eyes of course nods back impassively about being ordered not to grind the man's skin off and lets the power tool return to the table with a heavy thunk. At the same time this idiot starts thanking the boss, and I have to exercise my best restraint and not chuckle.

"Oh thank you, thank you, man."  _Clearly being smart doesn't make this guy very smart._  This isn't the boss being merciful, this is the boss wanting to do the job himself. He let me deal with the first man who messed with him woman, but this is incident two. He's going to make such a message out of this gut nobody even thinks about number three.

The boss hears the pathetic begging for this guy and responds to it with a toothy smile. The kind of smile that's full of creepy intent, and this time even the victim picks up on that, a nervous swallow making his Adam's apple bob.

My mental evaluation of his common sense rises with that observation, then it falls again. He actually looks at me with a hopeful expression, like I, the guy who dragged him in here, might help him out! This time the snort is unsuppressed.  _Just because I recruited you doesn't mean I give a shit._

At least until the big guy shoots me a curious look. "Sorry Boss." I offer with a slight cough and fall back to into attention before letting Loki have the floor again.

"They tell me..." He starts, his words drawing the hackers line of sight away from me back to him. "...as a man who works with computers, you value your hands very much..." Those gray eyes widen with understandable terror at the implied threat "That they are very integral to your application of your skills yes?"

He doesn't answer that question because he is too busy being slack jawed at the sight of his thick black framed glasses that Loki had picked up now disintegrating in a green light. All but the metal that had been inside of one of the arms of his glasses.

He gets his voice back rather quickly when that wire embeds itself in his wrist though, and he forgets how to turn it off when the bosses hand turns blue around it and his arm starts to turn black and radiate steam just like a hot breath in the winter air!

Loki only pauses after the first second of screaming to tell us to shut the door so she wouldn't be able to hear him scream as his flesh is crystallized by ice!  _Holy shit, no wonder she's so scared of him!_

After he finished amputating this poor guy's arm with what had to be frostbite he seemed to have gotten bored with torturing him, and having gathered this fool hadn't succeeded in getting any information out yet, Loki let his hand hand turn back its  _normal_  color.

Leaving the hacker with the cold cauterized black stump of flesh at his shoulder he rose from his sitting position and turned away from the sweating panting mess of man, too weak from pain and out of breath from screaming to put up a fight anymore.

On his way out he tells Agent Barton to do as he pleases with him as long as he cleans up after his mess when he is done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> For anyone who has noticed I usually post new chapters Friday evening, my new job has me leaving work after 1am, so from now on I will be posting Saturday afternoon.
> 
> For anyone who watches Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D like I do, you will catch the reference I used in this chapter pretty easily. for those that might not, the Hacktivist group the Rising Tide is MCU's version of ANONYMOUS and their focus is on exposing the truth SH.I.E.L.D is hiding from the world. further information can be found by going to the Marvel cinematic universe wikia and looking up RISING TIDE.
> 
> I apologize for those who don't keep up on the tv shows, and will try to post information about what I incorporate from them into the story, but they are a canon part of the Marvel Universe and is such will be used.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1838 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

_No, no, no, no, no, he can't know that!? How does he know that?!_ That was my frantic, almost panic stricken train of thought after he left me alone again.

I heard those words and I, I actually reached out for him, like I wanted him to come back!  _I did want him to come back. Why did I want him to come back? Why was I afraid to be alone again? Why did I think he would be better company than solitude?_  Every time I'm with him I feel like I'm risking my life with each sentence.

But I do want him back, because he knows  _my words_ , and nobody knows my words!

It's true. I never told anyone those words. Not even Clint knows about them, and he knows everything about me. But he doesn't know those, because the vision that came to me in here, it happened here. It only happened here, and I haven't spoken about it to anyone.

Having amnesia, on top of my other conditions I naturally had a few therapists as well. So when I thought I reclaimed something, it got discussed, and those words would have been on the list of things we talked about, and tried to figure what they really meant.

Because me being angry on a bridge of light makes no sense and couldn't be real, except he just quoted my god damned words!

_No, no, calm down Nora. You gotta be calm, and think. You can't freak out, not now. Okay? Just think. There has to be a reason?!_

I just need to to calm down. They taught me exercises for this, breathing and counting and building a happy place. I always thought it was so silly that they called it that, a happy place. It sounded so unofficial, I get that 'that' is why they call it that now. A casual, unobtrusive, easy kind of comfort.

I have a happy place. I'm laying in the grass of a wheat field. I'm by myself, but I'm not alone. There's a woman, and a child. I'm the woman, and the child. Its not a metaphor. I'm really both. I can feel myself holding my own hand. The hand of the adult is wrapped around the tiny one of the little girl with a face too similar to be any but mine.

We are both just laying there, kept safe and secure by our happiness, and the green guardianship of the spring fields. We're in dresses, such pretty purple flowing dresses, light like the colors of flowers in the new spring season, and its warm air carrying the fresh scents on the breeze.

And the little version of me, she's yawning now because somehow I know, a moment ago, I was was running and giggling in joy with older me. We were playing, because everything is safe in this place, and nothing could take away our happiness. This is a golden kingdom of peace. I know it, it's what it has always been.

And I'm humming myself a lullaby, because little me is so tired, and her eyes can barely stay open enough for me to even see the whites of them, and I don't want to let 'her' see me cry.

I can't hang on to it! Its a beautiful illusion, and its peaceful and perfect, and everything a sanctuary should be, but those child like eyelashes just make me want to cry. I can't figure out why it hurts so much or why I can't stop the anger welling up again.

It feels like some great injustice and I don't have a clue as to why. It makes me want to hurt something too, and that scares me! I feel like, if something was foolish enough to give me its throat, I'd rip it out, and that isn't me. It isn't, it can't be, I don't want it to be!

I didn't even realize I had something in my hand, until it wasn't in my hand, and my ears heard the sound of something shattering. I think I just 'murdered' a jar, but I think it's okay because it seems to have satisfied my wish and I'm not going to be alone anymore. I can hear someone opening my door.

I didn't realize who it was until he spoke, but I assumed it would be one of my keepers, whether Duncan or Loki, I didn't really know or care. I was too busy trying to decide whether my sobs were going to be sad or hysterical, at least until I heard 'Erik's' voice.

"Nora! Are you alright, I heard a crash?" My reaction is a little pathetic, I know that even as its happening but it doesn't stop the laugh from leaving me.

"Oh Erik..." I didn't want his presence earlier, and I can see his concern that he worries I still might not. "I'm so glad you're here." But right now I'm more concerned that if I spend another second alone I'm gonna lose my mind.

All that concern washes away from his face in the wake of a goofy smile. "Oh honey, of course I'm here."

Listening to him like this is so heartbreaking. He chuckles back, like what I just suggested was something ridiculous. It sounds exactly like Erik's chuckle, and I want to believe it means he is still my Erik, but I lived through proof enough to know he's not, not as long as his eyes shine like they do.

"Are you?" He looks so confused by that. There's no gentle transition to his expression, it switches like a new frame in a projector. "Are you really in there?"  _Please, please tell me no._

"Oh, you think...no, no, no, it doesn't make you go away, it shows you the truth. I'm still right here, I'm just 'more' here. Understand?"

I really just wanted him to say no. I wanted it so bad. But instead he told me that a part, if not all, of him is still in there behind that glow.  _That a part, if not all, of Clint was still in there when he put a knife in my skin!_

Living through that experience was bad enough for me, but now, knowing Clint might have been in there watching the whole thing just makes it worse! I liked it better when I could pretend it wasn't him at all.  _I shouldn't have asked that question, it stole that comfort from me._

That's why I choose not to look at those eyes anymore when I speak to him."Yes, yes you are." I chuckle, before another thought comes to my mind. "How are you here?" The look of confusion settles on his face rather dramatically. Its not a gentle shift in a facial expression, it's just another shift. "I mean here." I elaborate as I motion around the area. "In this room."

Now the confusion is gone as he understands my concern. "Oh, you don't need to worry about me dear, I'm very important to Loki, just like you."

"Yes, yes we're all very important to Loki." I mutter back. I didn't try to hide the frustrated sarcasm in my tone, but maybe I should have. He looks like I hurt his feelings just by saying that, and that's the last thing I want right now, is to drive my friend away.

"I'm sorry Erik, I'm just tired I guess." I offer him as an explanation, and despite it being a blatant lie he breaks out into a grin and buys it completely. Its heartbreaking to see him like this. He's not like Erik at all. "Can we just talk about simple things, like we used to?" But still, despite this pain in my heart, I don't want to send him away. I can't do it again, not with him smiling to see me.

"Yes, yes, right. Simple things" He rattles off quickly, striking his own hand in a moment of enthusiasm, and then he just stills, and lingers there. "... I... I can't think of anything." This time I laugh a little, burying the sadness behind the sound, though I doubt he would notice it anyways.

"That's okay." I tell him and motion to the chair in front of the desk. "Why don't we just sit? I'll think of something, okay?" He nods enthusiastically and calls it in excellent suggestion, then he turns and grabs a chair for me.

He refuses to sit himself until I take the seat he is holding for me, and let him slide it under me a little less smoothly than he probably thinks he is. He's treating me like a lady again, but I wish he wouldn't, I wish he'd just treat me like me.

 _I wonder if I'll ever get to be me again. T_ he thought is hollow enough, until I start to think about.  _When did I stop thinking of myself as me?_ I want to pigeon hole that thought into the belief it's a lie, but it's too true in my head and I can't make it fit. I don't feel like the same person who climbed that ladder and laughed. I feel like I'm on life support and my hand doesn't know what to do with the plug.

"Oh sweetie, why are you crying?" There's no real answer for that question, the one I want to give him I won't let myself.  _It is not me that is crying Erik._  I guess I took too long not providing an answer because he ends up thrusting a suggestion into view of my downturned eyes.

"Here." He says as he jostles the bowl of pumpkin seeds encouragingly, prompting me to look up at him in red eyed confusion. "They have tryptophan, which helps with good sleep and lowering depression, they'll make you feel better."

The laugh sound much more like mine again and I cling to that this time. "Yes, yes I think they will. Why don't you have some too?" I suggest in return as I take hold of the bowl.

The sentence was innocent enough. I wasn't going to eat in front of him, and I thought nothing of it because we shared food in each others company before. I didn't think anything of it until he spoke one of the last sentences I would ever wish to here.

"Oh no, I can't. I'm not allowed to eat." And then the container just slides out of my hand to scatter its contents on the floor!

 _I'm not allowed to eat._  That's what he said. Not that he didn't want the seeds, or wasn't hungry, but that he couldn't eat. He was being denied food!  _Oh my god! All this time while I was given...and he..._

His first response when I dropped the pumpkin seeds was to apologize immediately to me like it was his fault and get down on his knees to start picking each one up and cleaning them off.

"Erik, leave them and look at me." He turns to me offering me a smile and agreeing to do that, in one second, then goes right back to worrying about those stupids seeds. "FORGET THE GODDAMN SEEDS ERIK, AND LOOK AT ME!"

The yelling, or the swearing, or both gets him to focus at last, just because from me that was so unexpected. I don't swear, even when Clint was trying to kill me I don't think I swore even once!

"Nora?" He says my name, with timid confusion in his tone as he rises back to his feet at my beckoning motion.

"It's alright, I just need you to come here and look at me." I tell him as I too stand up.

"O-okay. If that's what you want..." He mutters, still looking terribly confused and like he wants to go back to picking up that mess. I don't bother responding to his words now though because I'm too busy looking at him.

I didn't see it before, because I wasn't exactly looking right at those lying neon eyes. But they're not that neon anymore. The light in them looks dimmer, and I can see small flickers on his normal eyes peeking through as the color swirls around unevenly instead of completely encompassing them.

"Erik." I say his name first to make sure I have his attention, and I can see the gray flash clearer for a second with just that.  _Oh god thank you._ But I keep my voice steady all the same despite that moment of joy. I have a mission here. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Uh, not since that coffee in the lounge."  _Not since the coffee! And he skipped his stupid lunch too, damn him for doing this to him!_ It's Loki, it's got to be Loki starving my friends. No one else would be able to make them ignore their bodies like that!

I don't know how I'm holding onto this calm appearance because I'm almost aching with this fury building inside my chest. "And how long ago was that?"

"I thinks it's been four days or more now." He offers, and the fact that he isn't even certain is what makes me finally squeeze my eyes closed and turn my back on him to keep him from seeing me like this. "Erik I need you to go get Loki for me _right now_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> Some of you may have noticed at the top of the chapter it tells you we are still in DAY TWO, however in the last paragraph of the story Erik says that it has been four or more days since they 'joined' Loki. This is not an error, and it will be explained in the next chapter.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

1900 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

LOKI

* * *

After finishing up with that man, a mortal foolish enough to have a change of heart about his work here and decide that I was the greater evil to S.H.I.E.L.D but not take into account I was by far the greater threat, I left what remained of his life to agent Barton's whims.

I imagine the influence of the scepter has left him with an almost painful desire to hurt something, even if he obediently followed my order to hold off on that earlier. I suppose I should give him some kind of outlet unless that energy starts consuming his sanity. He'd be much less use to me without that.

After that distasteful bit of necessity was over I found the other one waiting for me outside the door. The doctor impatiently waiting, having been denied entrance to the soundproof room while that man was screaming pathetically and divulging his secrets.

Now that I am exiting the room he is practically giddy to report the results of his mission to me, not that I can't determine its success from his grin alone.

“I told her just what you said to Loki. She wants to see you, she told me so.”

I told him to visit her while I was away. She's been enduring so much lately, and since she won't let me know the thoughts in her head I thought a familiar face would do her good. Sending Barton in there though was completely out of the question, and while she doesn’t seem terribly against the Scotsman’s presence I thought someone without a military air would put her more at ease.

She's only been in my care for around twenty two hours in total, but I know she has no means to know that. I’ve kept it that way on purpose because I also know how the minutes can stretch by when someone lives in stress. I've not been making the progress I wanted so I stacked the deck in my favor.

She becomes so invested in the well being of other things, I decided to use that against her. The doctor was told to inform her that he hasn’t been permitted food or sleep in the last 'four' days. One of those details alone would be sufficient, but both would make it even more certain that I would see the results I wanted.

“Very good doctor.” I tell him with a pleased but dismissive smile. “That’s all I needed, you may go back to your work now.”

I expected that he would do just that once I said so, but he lingers instead, and I can tell exactly why. He is worried about her. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me much given they shared a connection, and he was always aware, despite S.H.E.I.L.D's threats to keep him silent, what she is. It's why the organization introduced them in the first place, he was one of three mortals who had encountered us, and the most sensible of the trio befriended by Thor.

“You have my assurance doctor, no one will take better care of her than me.” I tell him to calm his concerns, then catching the eye of one of the passing soldiers with an indicative nod I order him back to building my machine. “Now you must return to your task.”

I hear his agreement distantly, turning away before he even finishes answering me, already letting my steps take me back to those quarters. I’m more interested in examining my attire for blood at the moment then the rambling mortal scientist. It would not serve me well at all to greet her covered in filth. 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1906 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

 NORA ELAINE

* * *

I heard the door hinges before I heard him. “The doctor told me something very interesting just now.” He says in greeting as he pauses with his hand still holding the edge of the door to look at me with curiosity. “He said you asked to see me, but I have a hard time believing that is true.”

I did ask for him. I made a request, and then I spent the rest of the time trying to find the courage to go through with it.

I wanted to be selfish and call Erik back, to tell him I changed my mind. I wanted to be scared I realized, and I hated myself for that realization. I knew what to expect from my fear now, so I wanted the comfort of that certainty.

That just made the anger I felt change its direction and aim at myself. What kind of coward was I that I actually wanted to choose what was simple for me over what was safe for my friends? _I gave those up such a short time ago, but I’m taking them back now. Please let me take them back._

“No. I mean yes.” I start, then correct my mistake as I make myself abandon the spot I ended my pacing in. “Yes, I did actually. He uhm, heard me drop another glass and checked on me.”

Loki continues to listen, but at the mention of broken glass his eyes scan the floor for the shards and when they find them his eyes turn back to we with a question arch to his brow. “I threw it I think.” I admit with a huff of frustrated embarrassment. _I’ve been doing that a lot lately._

Even though I’m trying to look calm on the outside I’m still a bundle of nervous energy on the inside right now, and that thought for whatever reason put a crack in my armor. “I’ll clean it up.” I offer quickly, planning to get up and use the activity to buy time to get my head back together.

Then he reminds me that my plans and his plans don’t always match. He isn’t aggressive about it, he simply steps in front of me and rests one hand on my shoulder while the other extends itself with a sweeping gesture in the direction of the glass and the the seeds and a glowing light begins to consume them until nothing is left. “I would rather you tell me what has upset you so?”

“I will” I promise, taking a moment to finish cementing the seal again before I commit to this explanation. “I’d like you to sit with me please if that’s okay?”

His response is the sound of an amused huff before his weight settles down next to my right side, the sight of his legs and torso filling the corner of my vision, before his hand and arm fill the front of it. He reaches slowly so he doesn’t startle me and lets his fingers tease the strands of hair as he urges my head to turn. “It is more then alright.”

“It wasn’t like this when I woke up.” His fingers still and his brow arches in invitation to continue with my vague statement. “My hair. This is the longest I’ve had it. I’ve been growing it out since I woke up.”

“Its been longer actually.” He offers as his fingers collect a section and trail down their length as if testing it. That concession is a tiny surprise to me and seeing my eyes widen his smile grows a little more, followed quickly by mine.

“Really?” I ask back sounding pleased with that and getting a nod in confirmation as I too examine the ends of my hair. “I always wanted long hair.” I confess in a hush, feeling foolish with myself for it. The state of my hair is not what I wanted to talk about, and we both know it.

'Did they tell you...” If I can't wait for my courage to decide its courageous I'll have to make it. “...how long 'Nora' has existed?”

He's smart, he doesn’t need me to explain that to him. “They told me you woke from your coma almost three's ago.” Because I was supposed to be dead I couldn’t go back to using my old name so when I was finally released from the hospital I took a new one and became a new person. Clint said Nora was a nickname of mine, and I choose Elaine after my dead mother's maiden name Delaney.

“Yes, almost two years and eleven months ago now.” I correct their information a little. I may not know the exact date today, but with Erik's admittance of four days I can make a good guess, and that anniversary is a date I always kept count of.

“For a long time, all I could do was live in my head.” I admit quickly, letting my eyes lift to make up for the height difference a little more, my first words inspire a bit of a smirk from him. My next ones banish it. “But once I realized that, my head became a chasm of darkness and fear.”

My description of the amnesia my coma left me with brings pity to his face, not that I expected anything else. Its the only reaction it gets from anybody when I tell them. He doesn’t offer his condolences like some people would feel the need to though because he knows I’m not done explaining yet. “So I started filling it with connections.”

“Your friends?” He offers, his lips a little tight on the last word, making his opinion of my relationship with S.H.I.E.L.D pretty clear.

“No...” They stay tight until I say that word, then loosen as his expression turns to confusion. “Not just friends. Connections. Everyone I’ve ever met is important to me, even if I don’t like them, or they don’t like me. I'm a THREE YEAR OLD WOMAN Loki, everything I see is new and precious to me.”

I admit to him, as I have admitted to one other. I'm like a greedy child. I cling to everything I encounter like its the only one of its kind in the world, whether its a person, a moment, a memory, or an object. I want it all and I don’t want to give any of it up, ever. _Please don’t take them from me._

He'd been watching me, silent and still except for the shift of his eyes searching mine as I spoke, and if I’m honest it sort of unnerved me because it looked like he was waiting for me to say something else but I can't figure out what it is. I find myself with a clue though as I find his hand cradling my face.

He didn’t try to surprise me with it, he kept his quick movement just slow enough that I knew it was coming, and those eyes of his watched for any sign that the fear might be too much. I’m not going to lie, when his hand first lifted, there was a small flinch, but I smothered the rest of them and let him weave his fingers into my hair as his hand came to rest at the back of my neck with them trapped under his palm.

“You need to stop now.” He commands quietly, almost like a plea with the corner of his lip tugging into a temporary smirk as he sees me add confusion to my heavy breathing before his eyes turn away from mine. “You know not how those words makes me wish to kiss you.”

I can hear an exasperated chuckle in his confession before he feels the shiver rack my spine. Those handsome eyes of his looking angry, saddened, and understanding toward that reaction “Fear not, I enjoy your lips better when they taste of choice.”

I hide from him against him again, letting my head rest against the edge of his chest piece, the skin of my cheek take in the dichotomy of leather, silk, and metal against it as I feel him breath a pleased sigh and press another 'not' kiss against the top of my head as leather confined fingers rest against the skin of my back just beneath my shoulder.

Its so strange that I find some kind of comfort in this, and a relief as well. I wasn’t this broken before. The attack shattered me a little again, there’s no denying it, but I reached a point before that as long as it wasn’t direct prolonged skin contact, I could do things like this. I'm glad I’m getting it back, even if its him.

 _Maybe its because its him?_ The thought sneaks up on me as I listen to the sound of his heartbeat, half pleased and embarrassed that it confirms my curiosity if he has one or not. I don’t know what to make of that thought, but I don’t push it away. _He called me his beloved..._ But I still don’t have a memory of him anywhere in my head.

 _What if I’m trying to find it in the wrong place?_ What if my body remembers him. _What if I was normal before?_ I must have been when he knew me, because he wants to approach me like a normal person. If I cry he immediately wants to hold me or wipe away my tears before he remembers he can't. _A normal person, who could hold hands, and hug, and kiss, and go to bed with...._

“You are trembling.” Those words make me stiffen a little a half a second before I realize he's right, and realize that even though he must have a guess why I’m trembling he still didn’t let go of me, and that I’m actually not going to dare ask him to. _I'd let him hold me forever if it pleased him._

“Arnora, stop.” I must have made the trembling worse because now his words aren’t a soft whisper breathed into my hair, but those of sharp concern, and his hand isn’t idly resting against my shoulder blade, but circling my arm and guiding me away from his chest as the other one cups my chin. “These thoughts you have, they do you no favors. Come, tell me what you called me for?”

I really just want to drop my gaze and hid my face again, but his hand under my chin won't let me. “Please tell me.” He repeats, his tone firmer but not colder. _I'm brave, I’m braver, I'm brave Nora, I’m brave._

“I want them.” There’s coldness now, I can see the affection and concern fade right out of his eyes. _No, no, please, I can't mess this up, please. I'll deal with what our new relationships are afterward, but right now my 'friends' need me._ “I just want you to let Clint and Erik...” I try to explain it better, but he doesn’t give me a chance. The coldness in his eyes reaching the set of his mouth and the slackening grip of his hand drop away from their position.

“No.” I heard his verdict, but I couldn’t bring myself to accept it, and I wasn’t ready to let him leave until I changed his mind. My actions sort of surprised him more then they did me. I caught the hand dropping away from my chin in both of mine, and kissed those knuckles before hugging his hand back to the hollow of my neck. “No, no Loki, please you don’t...!”

He seemed thrilled with those actions for a second, until he realized that I was using a kiss for the sake of another man, and ripped his hand out of mine with a hiss. I would have known that would be his reaction too, if I had the time to think about it first, but I made the mistake of just reacting, and I clearly reacted wrong.

“They serve my purpose now!” he practically snarls, ignoring my frightened recoil from the sharpness of his actions and his words, before managing to cool his temper a little. “I will not set then free, even for you.”

“I don’t want you to set them free.” I’m thinking now. Even though my heart is racing, and all my body wants to do is curl up and shiver in a corner for a while. I’m making myself stay in the moment, and I’m thinking hard. I have to or the next automatic reaction is gonna get somebody killed. “I don’t, keep them, please keep them, just...” He looks so confused by my statement, that for a moment he just stares in dismay before he finds his tongue again.

“What game is this?” He assumes that makes sense to me, if I was a master of deception and manipulation I would probably assume it too, a hidden agenda in the action of others, but I’m not like that.

“Its not a game,...” I venture, watching his eyebrows pull even farther together in doubt or confusion before he notices the way I’m pressing crescent marks into the the back of my hand, using the discomfort to keep myself focused. He stops me, his own hands gently wrapping around my wrists and urging mine to stop attacking themselves, the doubt in his expression dimming as he comes to believe me as I reaffirm it.

“I don’t know much about you...” I use honesty this time as I let him turn my hands over and examine the light damage I did to them, one of his thumbs tracing over my pulse almost absently. “...but I know I'd lose.”

His head lifts at this. “You'd bargain yourself for their lives?” He asks, looking genuinely bewildered by this revelation, as if he never truly considered putting the well being of others before his own. I can't imagine what kind of life leads to someone like that, and I can't imagine myself ever doing anything less. _My 'people' are me, as much as I am myself._

“I would.” Those words make his expression shift to what looks like offended, which I don’t understand until he speaks again, his hands squeezing mine a little tighter as he does.

“Do you put no value on yourself anymore?”

“I do!” I reply with earnest as I understand what he is thinking. It isn’t that I don’t think my life matters, its more complicated then that. “I...” at first I’m not sure how to explain it to him. Then I settle for reciting my thoughts. “My 'people' are me, as much as I am myself.”

There’s pity in those eyes now, and guilt. The pity I get, but the guilt I don’t understand, and it scares me a little. Why show guilt over something that hasn’t happened yet? It hasn’t yet right? It can;t have happened yet, they can't be gone yet!

“I can't lose them Loki...” I beg, doing my best to not buckle under the idea that my friends are hollow corpses somewhere outside that door. _I won't believe it, I just saw Erik, he can't be dead! Just keep talking Nora, you can get this done!_

“I c-cant take l-loosing an-anymore of me. P-please, please don-don’t take them a-way from me, d-don’t kill them and I'll-I'll do whatever you want. I swear, I s-swear, I'll pay for it. Please Loki, you can have me just please stopping killing my friends.”

That I managed to kill the stutter for that last part is a miracle, given what I just offered. _Its only fear, it can only kill my sanity, my body should be fine._ Now, he just needs to say or do something, because if he doesn’t that will kill my sanity too.

His hands let go, but they don’t retreat far enough to make me reach for them. Instead of pulling back from my skin they just loosen their grip on my hands to start traveling up my arms. They make the message very clear. He accepted my offer. _I can do this, I can, I can, I can, I have to._

They trail goosebumps in there wake, and chill my blood a little at the elbow as his fingers slow their assent to pass over the bend on my arm. His long fingers brushing against the skin of my under arm as they make their way to my shoulders.

They don’t stop there, they find my throat, the contrast to my boiling blood making me shiver as his fingers weave tickle the back of my neck again and his thumbs make me elevate my chin to face him. _Its just skin, its just flesh, just body, its not me, its just a shell._ I keep telling myself that lie isn’t a lie as I close my eyes in acceptance. I’m still saying it is I feel his breath on my lips. “You are not ready yet.”  
  
I’m so shocked by those word that I can almost hear my eyes snap open to meet his, right before that green glow consumes them, along with all of him. There’s nothing there, just an empty space under my hands where he was!

That’s when I find myself at the door, and start fighting it with screams! “NO, NO PLEASE NO, COME BACK! YOUR WRONG! I CAN, I CAN, PLEASE I CAN! CLINT! ERIK! PLEASE DON'T HURT THEM! LOKI!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS: If Anyone reads this story at Fanfiction.net is well, the server seems to be down, so I will try posting there again tommorow, hopefully it is fixed by then.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER THIRTY 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1930 HOURS 

GOLDMANS GYM 

BROOKLYN 

* * *

STEVE ROGERS 

* * *

"Then you should be out, celebrating..." The person who appeared after I annihilated the first of what I planned to many sandbags for the night wasn't Nora. They weren't even a woman, and weren't carrying a first aid kit. It was the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, a man I really only met once, in Time Square.

After standing in front of the brick building for a while and just looking at the sign like I expected something from it, I walked in and up to the owner's office. After a small exchange of words and money, I had the keys to the building in my hand for the night, and he had double what he suggested as rent for the night plus the cost of seven new sandbags and the promise to clean up after myself. If I needed more then that I'd work the rest of the memories out running.

I was only on my second bag, but when he made it clear this wasn't going to be a passing visit, I stopped with that bag. I wasn't glad to see him, but his visit served the same purpose as the punching. It was a distraction, and a simple enough one. I'm a soldier, he was a superior officer, I could get lost for a little while in the structure of that.

I thought I could forget my past for a moment by drifting into the mindset of a soldier, then he handed me a folder with my past printed on it in glowing blue. I saw that thing disintegrate a man in a beam of light and melt its way through a metal floor. I thought I saw the last of it and was okay with that. I didn't know what it was, but I saw its by product obliterate plenty of soldiers with a single shot. Whatever it was it was dangerous.

That made his statement about Howard keeping it when he found it something I should have expected.

I didn't have a lot of time to think about it, but it makes sense because Howard, as well as the army would have sent search parties out to look for me. Knowing Howard I'm sure he kept looking for me long after the army gave up. He had the money, and as it turns out the man power to do it. The organization that found me in the ice is the organization he founded. Him and Peggy.  _They found me after all._

I wouldn't think about that right now though, I was still thinking as a soldier. The director wouldn't be handing me this file if there wasn't a good reason to do so, a reason I can guess. I asked who took it from him, both for a name and a confirmation that it had been taken, and he gave me both.

He replied, "If your in..." as if I could hear that information and not volunteer for the fight. I faced its power before first hand, I knew what to expect from it and from the men who would wield it. I didn't know who this 'Loki' was but I didn't really need to. There was only one reason to take something like that, and that was if he planned to use it for something.

I'd join the fight, because it was the right thing to do. I'd step into the boots of Captain America again because it meant saving lives and protecting the innocent from the harm and horror this thing could create.  _I'd apologize to Nora for it later, she'll be mad at me for taking the risk but I know she'll understand._

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1956 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA ELAINE 

* * *

_Oh God, what have I done?_ Just wanted to help my friends, I just, I just don't know what else I could have done. I was going to let him do whatever he wanted with me. I said he could have me, I was ready to try and give him everything, and it still wasn't enough.

He said I wasn't ready. He was probably right, I probably wasn't but if my willingness to give up everything can't save my friends what else could I give?

I gave up blood and skin too. I beat my fists against that door so much I started leaving pink smears on its surface from wearing off my skin. I didn't care. I wanted to break the door down with my bare hands,

I even tried gouging a hole through it with one of the forks, but it didn't take very long for the teeth to get stuck in the wood and the handle to snap off under the pressure, skinning a red line on the back of my hand when it did. I didn't even try to yank it back out, I just went right back to hitting the door with my hands and screaming.

I'm not screaming anymore though I'm silent and I'm still. My throat feels raw despite the tears drying on my skin, and my hands are so bruised my fingers won't open. I'm just sitting here where I landed after I let my legs give out, in a spot next to the door frame.

_They're dead, I killed them, how is everything going so wrong?!_

I didn't even acknowledge Jareth's concerned calls for my attention as he watched me with flat ears from his place on the bed. A place he isn't moving from probably out of fear of me right now. I wouldn't hurt him, but I'm beyond caring about him right now. He isn't in harms way and that's all that matters, if I scared him he will get over it soon.

Even the sound of the door opening, and the second of silence before a pair of worn out combat boots and camouflage pants step to a stop in front of me doesn't matter enough anymore to make me move.  _I don't care, I have nothing left, I just want it to be over_.

It isn't until I hear the thud of his little body jump off the bed and Jareth's claws click against the floor as he walks over to rub against the soldier's leg and the soldier starts to react that I finally find the drive to show a reaction. The reaction hurts my hand but spares my kitten.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

1958 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN BLACKWOOD 

* * *

After Terrance and I finished setting up the thing the boss asked for I left Terrance to do the rest he asked for and go get the lady.

When I reached the door, it was unnervingly quiet given all the noise she had been making, and she'd been making a whole lot. I actually had to start giving orders to the scientists and some of my men to ignore it, because lets be honest, hearing a woman begging with sobbing screams can make your head go to funny places, believe me I know.

The fact that my first scan of the room didn't show me where she was made me even more nervous.  _Christ, please don't let her be that kind of stupid._  There wasn't supposed to be anything in here too dangerous for her, and I doubt the boss would have left her with anything he thought might be, but if she tried to hurt herself I'm screwed.

 _I always figured my death would be a messy one, but I'll be damned if I go out like that hacker._  The bloody smears on the inside of the door was really not helping my predictions of my future.

I felt relief when I looked around the other side of the door, but a mountain of pity. She looked worse then the fresh and clean woman I left in here. Her knees have dirt embedded into the dress, with part of the skirt even torn off except from a few clinging threads; there's even spots of mud staining the cloth as much as her skin, mud I know exists from her tears.

_Why is it every time I see her see looks worse off than before? What am I helping him do to her?_

Those thoughts peeter off for a moment when I feel a warm little mass press itself into my ankle, it turns out to be that cat of her's. Last time I saw the thing it was sleeping off some really good pain meds, and if I'm honest I liked it that way better. Cats are nothing but little demonic beasts if you ask me and I have no use for them, I'd much rather deal with a well trained dog.

That's why when it looked up at me with those lying green eyes and acted like it was going to try and climb my pants I went to push it away with my foot right before my other shin explodes with pain.

Skipping a little to correct my stumble I only vaguely hear the thing release a snarling hiss before it turns into a tan blur that disappears somewhere but I'm more concerned with the other angry presence in the room.

"Don't touch my cat asshole." I know that voice, but the soft tone of calm anger but that hate in her green eyes doesn't fit at all, and neither does what she just did. "Did ye jist jimmy me in th' shin?!"

I don't get a spoken answer to that as I watch her pull her hand back to the halo around her knees it had been making before, but still receive one from the dark red stain stripping across my pants from where she did actually punch me!

Why she thought punching was a good idea I don't know, I would have gone for a kick and chosen the knee over the shin, or tried for a rolling leg lock given the position she is in. A punch just makes no sense, it just reinforces the fact they never bothered to train her at all.

"Hey..." I'm not surprised when she chooses to ignore the plea in my voice and settle back into herself, nor am I put off by it. If anything the sharp sniff of pain as her hand brushes against her arm while it settles into place only motivates me more. "...yoo shoods lit me swatch at those."

The 'go away' wasn't a surprise either, but it is a little annoying. I know she's upset, but I am trying to be the good guy and help. Letting out a sigh I adjust the legs of my pants a little before hunkering down to be on her level. "I'm afraid Ah cannae dae 'at lil hen. lit me check yer hans okay?"

"They're fine." She fires back without heat behind the words. Those damp red rimmed eyes of her flicking to mine from their vantage past her knees. She's clearly been crying a while to make them that bloodshot. Makes me feel like a jerk just for listening to it the whole time but I couldn't do anything else. If I came in here uninvited I'd walk out to a spear in my chest. "Their bleedin' loove."

"They'll stop." Is her reply while she makes absolutely no effort to quicken that process or hide them from view.  _She's really beyond the concern of self, so I'll try a different tactic._

"Yeah, eventually but ye don't want tae boss tae see ye loch thes." The tactic got me some results, but not quite the ones I was aiming for. That fire flashes back in those forest green eyes of her's, just like when she called me an asshole.

"Damn him..." and I have to admit, that even though I've seen it once already, its just as surprising coming out of her, I didn't think she had it in her. _I like how it looks on her._ "Let that bastard see."

"Weel noo, yer tongues gotten affa colorful." The comment doesn't get much out of her, with exception to minuscule shift of her shoulder that was either a shrug or an attempt to get comfortable. Either way that doesn't matter cause that one wasn't aiming for a response, but this one is. "Wanna teel me what's loosened it?"

"No, you should leave." The order only added to my collection of predictable responses from her, but this one I sort of wanted because it opened up my next sentence.

"Yeah, Ah probably shoods." I tell her back before straightening my knees again, not liking the slight popping sound one of them makes, but burying that thought as I join her against her wall to find out what is so comfortable about the floor, trying to remember which pocket I put it that tin in.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2003 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA ELAINE 

* * *

The sound of metal scraping against metal reaches my ears in a sound that I recognize very easily having made the same sounds before in my kitchen. Its the sound of a can being opened, and it makes me aim a silent glare his direction.  _Its a dirty tactic._

"Ye loch tuna sweetheart?" He asks, meeting my sideways look as he finishes slicing the lid open and hooks the jagged edge with his fingernail to lift it. "Its th' guid mince, nae MRE rations Ah tryst." The knowing smirk in his eyes that he is trying to keep off his lips only makes my jaw clench harder as he holds the can in front of me for a moment.

"Nae, ye sure?" He asks when I make no effort to accept it, then after pulling it back to himself with a shrug he pulls out a piece with his fingers before popping it in his mouth making a show of licking his fingers clean despite my attempt to ignore him.

Then he plucks out another and lets his hand extend toward the floor with it. "Tch, tch, tch, whit abit ye wee bloke, ye want it? Come an' gie it."

All it took was the sight and a twitching whiskered nose crossing the barrier of light and shadow from beneath the quilt hanging over the bed from me to put my hand in the figurative bear trap.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2005 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN BLACKWOOD 

* * *

I figured since nothing else seemed to be motivating her to respond I would go back to the one thing the that I knew would get a reaction out of her. Her kitten she swung her bloody knuckles into my leg over.

When the kitten came out to investigate the scent of ocean fish she tried to take the can I was offering it out of my hand, and reached across me to do so.  _Definitely not trained. S_ he made it way too easy for me if I wanted to use that opportunity to put her in a restraining hold. Instead to her suspicious confusion I simply handed her the lidless can of tuna.

The kitten seems to come with a guarantee and in this case its her good behavior its guaranteeing. Without the lid the kitten is going to be obsessed with the scent of fish, and as long as I don't do anything to threaten it she won't do anything that will drive it away.  _Its underhanded, I know, but I'm me._

"Whats th' moggie named efter? anythin'?" I asked the question casually, and a am not surprised by her look of defensive irritation at the fact that I've taken interest in the kitten. Given I tried to shoo it away forcefully with my foot earlier I bet she just wishes I'd forget about its existence, which I might if her own actions weren't making it my ace in the hole.

"Nae, still nae 'spikin tae me hmm?" My answer is petulant silence as she lets the kitten rest in the safety of her lap and inhales the fish right out of the can, but its okay. "That's braw, Ah can gab enaw fur baith ay us. aam named efter mah dad, th' auld cheil didn't waste his creativity oan things loch 'at Ah guess."

The kitten finds a particularly large chunk and pulls it out of the tin, to rest on her dress as it starts wearing it down sloppily with its molars.  _Hope the boss doesn't get mad about it making the dress...dirtier._ "Bin a lot ay places. Australia, aw ower th' Middle Eest, Philadelphia ance, Hang Kang, Bogota, Rrazil, th' Himalayas, e'en worked in France ance, thocht almost ended up blin' oan mah left side cause ay 'at place sae Ah cannae say Ah loch France. whit abit ye lil ...?"

"You forgot the Scottish Highlands." She whispers absently, her eyes watching that creature licking its paws to clean its face of tuna juice. "Caithness?" She narrows down her observation as an after thought, her tone suggesting the same amount of vacancy between her words and her thoughts.

"Thurso actually, near Doonreay" I narrow it down even further with a suspicious edge to my curious tone. "But yer damn close..." Caithness is the part of Scotland Thurso is in. "Haw did ye ken 'at?"  _I know it isn't hard at all to identify my accent is a Scottish one, but she narrowed it down so close I have trouble chalking it up to a guess._

"I was a guide for a little while." She surrenders the information with what sounds like sadness despite the static expression on her face. "A group from the reactor came once."

"They braw tae ye?" Her brow tightens a little over who I mean by 'they' as she shifts only her eyes in my direction for a moment. "Th' fowk ye guided? they waur braw tae ye?"

"Yes, they were." There's a spark of life in her face when she says that, but its a bittersweet spark. One she tries to smooth the edges off by focusing her efforts on petting her kitten. It chirps a little at the first caress, looking up at her with a slow blink of contentment before it offers its chin to her for scratching as it rattles out its pleasure.

"Ye miss it don't ye lil hen?" She agrees with a bobbing nod and a quick attempt at a smirk. "It gave me a sense of direction. It was nice."

Both of us are silent for a moment in agreement to that statement.  _I can certainly get behind that belief._ There's a certain peace in having a set task. You don't have to think about it, and can take a degree of pride in your work, even if it was just making sure we made it to our meeting with the Director on time.

 _Alright Soldier, you have let her linger in sorrow long enough._ I shift my shoulders as I clear my throat for second then pull open the flap of my jacket to access that inner pocket. "Ye loch a bevvy by onie chance lil hen?"

Her eyebrow raises so high it puts a few new lines in her forehead, but I can't tell if its more out of surprise or disbelief at my offer or uncertainty what 'bevvy' means. However either way its not going to stop me from feeding my tastes. Taking a swig of it to prove its as innocent as alcohol can be I hold it out in offering.  _God knows she looks like she could use it._

She doesn't take it for a moment, and I'm beginning to think she won't as she continues to just stare at the dented metal and worn leather suspended by my fingers. "I hate alcohol actually." Her sentence only furthers my belief, right before her next one changes my mind. "How much can I have?"

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2012 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA ELAINE 

* * *

He must have expected my refusal, because he chuckled a little in dismay at my question, then he smothered it back with seriousness. "Its Wild Geese." He explains, but when he realizes that the name means nothing to me he clears it up a different way. "Its irish whiskey. Got abit a scuttle shots left lil hen, haur ye gang."

The bottle is warm when I take it from him, our fingers brushing a little given the small size. He has rough fingers, a sign of his lifestyle I guess. They actually feel rougher than the leather on the flask. Its a nice flask, I can tell he likes it too. The leather isn't dry and hard, its still soft despite its obvious age. He seems to take good care of his things.

"What will it taste like?" I ask, mostly just hoping to hear it won't taste like my memory of Sam Adams, but only half hoping because it could taste like what I imagine Balut would for all I care I just would prefer it to not taste like beer. "Its got a bit ay honey an' citrus tay it, but tae ye..."

I went right ahead and skipped the listening to the answer part. The shuddering fit of violent coughing I broke out into was enough to startle Jareth out of my lap, and turning around he sits down near Duncan before leveling an offended gaze on me as he starts smoothing out his ruffled fur."...tastes like ...wet fire?!"

"'At it diz hen." He laughs back with a light huff. "Especially fur someain loch ye. Shoods probably slaw doon a wee thocht." He adds before he holds out his hand for it.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2014 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN BLACKWOOD 

* * *

_Oh, Christ if that look isn't cute on her._  When I held out my hand for the flask her face shifted to a greedy and protective pout. She has the kind of face that naturally takes on a childish innocence sometimes, and right now I gotta say it, she looks like a little girl who should be saying 'nuh uh, mine.' with a teddy bear in her hand.

"Skitin' buddy etiquette lil hen, sip an' pass." I can see her process that sentence, just like I can see her racking her brain for anything tidbit of knowledge that will tell her if I'm lying about that or not. So I add another layer in my favor. "Plus its mah flask."

It succeeds, and makes her hold it back out to me, but its a sour victory. She looks like she misses it all ready. But it makes the echo of surprised delight in her sad eyes when I take my shot and hold it back out to her all the sweeter.

"Whit?" I swish it a little for the sound. "There's still some liquid coorage in it, an' ye need it mair 'en th' flask diz." She takes it back a bit too quickly to pass for cool, which makes me smirk a little at her, and smirk a little more when only after she has it in her possession that she dares to ask."What about you?"

"Sweetheart, Ah hae a whole bottle it thaur tae refill 'at wi'. Dornt fash yerse abit it." She nods, wearing a still weak but somewhat stronger imitation of happy understanding. Then her face twists up with a sharp sniff as she tries to shake away the burn from what looked like another double shot going down her throat.

 _Damn..._  I think as I evaluate the weight when she hands me the flask back.  _...four shots in as many minutes, this lil booze virgin's gonna regret that real quick._  I muse as I finish the last shots worth.

 _Behave._ Come that voice of reason again. Reminding me how much her pretty face is a danger to my health.  _She is not yours for the taking._  She belongs to the boss. He may have said to go get her, and not hurry her, but that doesn't give me rights to her. _Remember that Soldier._

I'm only two shots in the hole, I shouldn't feel this stupid on a girl after two shots, so I shake it off and tip the flask upside to show her. "Aw gain lil hen."

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2017 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA ELAINE 

* * *

I'm disappointed with its absence. I can feel it warming my flesh and numbing the edges of my thoughts a little, but I wanted it to do a lot more. I've heard it can make people forget if they drink enough. I don't think I've had anywhere near enough for that even if this stuff is much stronger then the beers Clint made me drink.

"I think..." I hesitate for a moment as his eyes meet mine curiously, the light reflecting over them making them look brighter than the brown I remember. They look almost the same shade as honey for a second before the trick of the light vanishes. "...there's some wine in here."

He laughs at that for a second. "Loove, I'm nae sure ye want tae gie blooter'd aroond me. Its nae a guid idea okay?" He says with a gentle smile as he warns me of the risks, risks that probably apply to him too. Except I don't have reasons to care anymore.

"Why? Because you like me Duncan?" The statement caught him off guard given his sharp huff of a sound and his lack of words. "I'm not stupid, okay, I know I'm dangerous because I'm his property now, so you don't have to answer. Can I just ask you to do something for me?"

He is silent for a moment, clearly thinking over that request and how much trouble it might bring him if he agrees to it. Then he shifts his weight and stands up, but it isn't to leave. Its to wrap his hand around the neck of that fancy pitcher, and grab a few of those empty jars between his fingers.

When his feet stop back in front of me and he stands there silently for a second I decide to lift my head to look at more than his knees. He looks determined, and disappointed in himself all at the same time.

"Yoo're reit, yoo're gorgeoos, an' that's got me kin' ay glaikit aroond ye." He pauses. "Ask yer question." He orders as he holds the jars out for me to take. But my eyes don't really focus on those as I mentally prepare myself for this. They are focused on tan fur and blue eyes. "I know you don't like cats, but can you take care of my kitten when he tells you to kill me too?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS: In case anyone is unfamiliar with it, BALUT is a developing duck embryo that is boiled and eaten in the shell. It is commonly sold as streetfood in the Philippines. They seem to like it, but the rest of the world considers it to be pretty terrible.
> 
> Dounreay Scotland is a comic book reference. NICK FURY, AGENT OF S.H.I.E.L.D. VOL 3 #21
> 
> Also, the Wild Geese Irish whiskey, is a nod to one of Duncans inspirations. Pip Bernadotte from Hellsing. He is a mercenary who leads a group called the Wild Geese. He is also french, but since what he inspired about Duncan was more personality based his ethnicity doesn't matter to much. I also included more references to Pip in the list of places Duncan has been. If you are a fan of the Hellsing series I'm sure you will recognize them.
> 
> DUNCANS ACCENT TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> Did ye jist jimmy me in th' shin?! = Did you just punch me in the shin?!
> 
> ...yoo shoods lit me swatch at those. = ...you should let me look at those.
> 
> I'm afraid Ah cannae dae 'at lil hen. lit me check yer hans okay? = I'm afraid I cant do that little hen. Let me check your hands okay?
> 
> Their bleedin' loove. = their bleeding love.
> 
> Yeah, eventually but ye don't want th' boss tae see ye loch thes. = Yeah, eventually but you don't want the boss to see you like this.
> 
> Weel noo, yer tongues gotten affa colorful. = well now, your tongues gotten awfully colorful.
> 
> Wanna teel me what's loosened it? = Wanna tell me what's loosened it?
> 
> Yeah, Ah probably shoods. = yeah, I probably should.
> 
> Ye loch tuna sweetheart? = you like tuna sweetheart?
> 
> Its th' guid mince, nae MRE rations Ah tryst. = its the good stuff, not MRE rations I promise.
> 
> Nae, ye sure? = no, you sure?
> 
> Tch, tch, tch, whit abit ye wee bloke, ye want it? come an' gie it. = Tch, tch, tch, what about you little guy, you want it? Come and get it.
> 
> What's th' moggie named efter? anythin'? = What's the cat named after? Anything?
> 
> Nae, still nae 'spikin tae me hmm? = No, still not speaking to me hmm?
> 
> That's braw, Ah can gab enaw fur baith ay us. aam named efter mah dad, th' auld cheil didn't waste his creativity oan things loch 'at Ah guess. = That's fine, I can talk enough for both of us. I'm named after my dad, the old man didn't waste his creativity on things like that I guess.
> 
> Bin a lot ay places. Australia, aw ower th' Middle Eest, Philadelphia ance, Hang Kang, Bogota, Rrazil, th' Himalayas, e'en worked in France ance, thocht almost ended up blin' oan mah left side cause ay 'at place sae Ah cannae say Ah loch France. whit abit ye lil ...? = Been a lot of places. Australia, all over the Middle East, Philadelphia once, Hong Kong, Bogota, Brazil, the Himalayas, even worked in France once, though almost ended up blind on my left side cause of that place so I can't say I like France. What about you lil ...?
> 
> Thurso actually, near Doonreay. = Thurso actually, near Dounreay.
> 
> But yer damn close... = But your damn close...
> 
> ...haw did ye ken 'at? = ...how did you know that?
> 
> "They braw tae ye? = They nice to you?
> 
> Th' fowk ye guided? they waur braw tae ye? = The people you guided? They were nice to you?
> 
> Ye miss it don't ye lil hen? = You miss it don't you lil hen?
> 
> Ye loch a bevvy by onie chance lil hen? = You like a drink by any chance lil hen?
> 
> Its Irish whiskey. got abit a scuttle shots left lil hen, haur ye gang. = Its Irish whiskey. got about six shots left lil hen, here you go.
> 
> Its got a bit ay honey an' citrus tay it, but tae ye... = Its got a bit of honey and citrus too it, but to you...
> 
> 'at it diz hen. = That it does darling.
> 
> Especially fur someain loch ye. shoods probably slaw doon a wee thocht. = Especially for someone like you. Should probably slow down a little though.
> 
> "Skitin' buddy etiquette lil hen, sip an' pass. = Drinking buddy etiquette lil hen, sip and pass.
> 
> Plus its mah flask. = Plus its my flask.
> 
> Whit? = What?
> 
> There's still some liquid coorage in it, an' ye need it mair 'en th' flask diz. = There's still some liquid courage in it, and you need it more then the flask does.
> 
> "Sweetheart, Ah hae a whole bottle it thaur tae refill 'at wi'. Dornt fash yerse abit it. = Sweetheart, I have a whole bottle out there to refill that with. Don't worry about it.
> 
> Aw gain lil hen. = All gone lil hen.
> 
> Loove, I'm nae sure ye want tae gie blooter'd aroond me. Its nae a guid idea okay? = Love, I'm not sure you want to get drunk around me. Its not a good idea okay?
> 
> Yoo're reit, yoo're gorgeoos, an' that's got me kin' ay glaikit aroond ye. = you're right, you're gorgeous, and that's got me kind of stupid around you.
> 
> Ask yer question. = Ask your question.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2020 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN BLACKWOOD 

* * *

_I know you don't like cats, but can you take care of my kitten when he tells you to kill me too?_  She actually said that to me?!  _She called me a murderer!_  Not that it isn't true. I mean, hell, I've already killed two men down here myself,  _but she called me HER murderer!_

Running my hand over my hair in frustration I scrape my teeth over my lower lip, catching it a little at the end before it breaks free with an internal pop that followed by a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry loove, but come again? Ye want me, tae watch yer moggie fur ye?"

"Yes, please. I'd really appreciate it." _Oh hell with this._  I was trying to be calm but that just isn't going to work anymore.

Turning just enough to see the bed behind me I lightly toss the jars on top of it, as well as the decanter of what she called wine. It holds my attention for a moment when I notice with mild awe that despite it being a circle, it sprouts its own stand and lands perfectly upright in the soft surface.  _Right, cause the Asgardian's got magic. Neat trick I guess, but I'm still pissed._ So I turn my attention back to her. "Gie up."

She doesn't seem to understand how intense the situation just became because all she does is shake her head softly and pull her knees farther into a hug.

"Please Duncan, just..." That's as far as I let her get before I take advantage of her lack of looking at me, and grab her arm. "Hey?!"

Ignoring her early and weak attempt at struggling against me I pull her to her feet sharply and tuck my shoulder into her waist to throw her over my shoulder before she can get any real momentum behind her muscles.

The abruptness of it and the solidness of my shoulder seemed to surprise the fight out of her for a second, which gave me just enough time to make sure I had a good hold on her legs, and one that put her feet out of kicking range. She may not be trained, but she was kept real close by Hawkeye, and the Black Widow, it would be a mistake for me to assume some of them didn't rub off on her.

It shows a little too when she gets over her shock and driving the heels of her hands into my back to get some leverage as she tries to hold herself up with just one by fisting it into the material of my jacket so she can claw her nails into the flesh of my ear.

Its impressive out of her, but I don't give her the chance. Before her fingernails can rip out hair or draw any blood she has the air knocked out of her again as I throw her off my shoulder and drop her on the table, her back hitting the wall behind it with a solid whack.

The fact that I cradled the back of her skull to prevent the same thing from happening to it doesn't seem to win me any gratitude from her, but that doesn't surprise me too much given how much I know she doesn't like to be touched. For all I know I might have triggered a panic attack in her, though its hard for me to tell beyond how genuinely pissed off she looks. Though the phobia theory looses less ground when she forces me to catch her wrist mid swing and twist my fingers in her hair to prevent her from headbutting me.  _The tour guide I met sure didn't have this fire in her._

But as intriguing as this new found fight she has running through her veins is, if we keep struggling someone's gonna hear us and come in which will probably get both of us killed since right now I'm standing between her legs and pinning her to a table!

 _I need her to pay attention._ So I say one of the few things I can think of that will get it for me without question. "Alpha zero niner six zero two three one" She goes so still with those words you'd think I hit her with a brick.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2023 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA ELAINE 

A 096 0231 

* * *

_That's my number, or it was. That was the card serial number on my ID._

S.H.I.E.L.D

ELAINE

Nora

TITLE

ADMINISTRATIVE GUIDE

SEX F, HAIR BRN, HIEGHT 5-03

ISSUE DATE/EXP DATE

2009NOV10/2015NOV10

CRD SER NO A 096 0231

LOSS OF THIS CARD MUST BE REPORTED IMMEDIATELY

I didn't lose that card though, even if I don't have it anymore. Not because it expired though, why would it when its still three years away from being 2015? No, it expired because that job, administrative guide, expired with a bloody elbow and a broken computer screen. They took away that card January 2nd 2010. I couldn't keep it for security reasons obviously since it had a chip in the back of it, but I was given a picture of it by Natasha for nostalgic sake.

Then they gave me a different ID, and later when I was sent to P.E.G.A.S.U.S I received yet another so why would he say the serial number of a card from over two years ago? Back when I was was still a...

"Yes Nora, you got it. Good girl." He says, now accent-less and with a tiny flash of a smile as he releases his grip on my wrist and my hair, cautiously glancing at the door as he keeps his voice low, but apparently confident in my cooperation.

He probably shouldn't be because I feel less stable now then I did when I was pounding on the door screaming. "Y-y-you your-you're with S.H-S.H.I.E.L.D?!"

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2025 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN BLACKWOOD 

* * *

Well, I got her attention, but after hearing one note of that sentence it looks like I got her fire too. Not that I can blame her, if I was in a helpless situation like her and somebody waited as long as I did to reveal they were an ally I'd probably want to beat their ass for it.

She probably wants to do that to me too, but she doesn't know how to handle all the signals her body and mind are bombarding her with and is just left overwhelmed by them. I can see it, like I've seen in enough people. Training makes it easier but some people react badly to adrenaline, it leaves them unable to do anything else but shake and cry as they come down off it.

Enduring the furious strikes of her fists into my chest and shoulder I re-invade her space again, forcing her arms to buckle as she continues her assault and allowing me to wrestle them to a pinned position between us as I bear hug her to me.

"Shh, I know, I know, I'm an asshole. Its okay, you cry it out..." I whisper to her as I wait for her to exhaust herself, but even during it I'm silently hoping she isn't the biting kind because in this position my neck rather open to it. "...you do what ever you have to as long is its quiet agent, I got you. You're safe."

She redoubles her efforts at the words agent and safe, but it doesn't concern me because I actually know she is cooperating. If she wanted really wanted do something to me all she would have to do is get out one scream, but even while I'm prepared to squeeze the breath out of her if she tries, she hasn't yet. She's upset but she isn't stupid, and she isn't out to get me killed.

I can feel her fight leaving her and the adrenaline withdraws really hook their claws into her not long after that. There's no purpose in the sharp heaving breaths and shivering as she buries her face into my shoulder just because she has no other place to put it until I let her go, which I'm not going to do until she is really and truly calm again, phobia or not I can't risk it.

So I try to talk her through it as quickly as I can. Repeating all the clues to who I really am that she didn't seem to pick up on before. "I've been to Bogota with my sister, I'm named after my old man, I came in from Dounreay in 09..."

And then start on a few hints I hadn't been able to drop before I had to resort to physical methods.  _Dad always has been a fan of certain phrases._  "There are enough martyrs in your past lil hen, you don't get to be one too, your life  _has been a gift_  Okay, now I know your  _at a tipping point_  but you let me put my  _hands in the mud_ , you just worry about finding the  _courage for the next steps_  that come."

"No." she sobs out, making me stop in uncertainty because I thought she was calming down, but now she seems to have taken it back in the other direction. "No, no, no, I don't want to..." She starts to push against me again, but her strength is less stable given that the adrenaline is still withdrawing and hasn't re-invaded her blood to quell the shaking. "I don't want to know, please I don't want to know!"

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2029 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA ELAINE 

* * *

_Not again, please not again!_  I don't want to know. For once, for the first time, in my life I don't want to remember something. I don't want to know who he is, I don't want to remember that I know who he is because we met once. I don't want to get this man killed too.  _Not again, not another one, please not again!_

"Hey, hey..." He tries to calm me again, keeping his voice a reassuring whisper as he tightens his grip back up to remove the slack it started to give me a moment ago. "You need to be calm now, this won't be good for you."

Its not a threat in that sentence, just a threat from me. I know taking my body through a roller-coaster ride of hormones won't leave it in a good place at the end of it all, I've had enough experience with those panic induced rides to know that part very well.  _Its what upsets me the most._

He's holding me. His arms, wrapped in the cotton of his jacket or not, are still circling my naked shoulders like a vice and pinning my hands against his shirt covered chest as his hands unconsciously rub soothing circles into my back. He's touching me, and the most frightening part of it all is I can't decide if that frightens me more then the restraining offends me.

I didn't want my fear to be fixed by fear! I want to scream so badly, but I cant even do that because I don't want to bring the consequences of that scream back into this room. I'm so frustrated by all of this and I can't do anything to alleviate it! "I don't know what to do."

"I know, I know lil hen." He says with a reassuring edge to his tone before he shows a certain level of faith in me and lets me out of the cage of his arms and rests his hands back on the table. "This situations about is FUBAR'd as it gets, but remember who I am luv, I got this. I'm a STRIKE captain."

I do remember him, sort of. I remember a clean shaven man with a military buzz cut and a nice tan, but I wasn't really looking to closely at the time, because his lieutenant, a man named Rumlow, was making me uncomfortable. He never touched me, but he kept looking at me and stood really close, on top of the things he said to me made me nervous.

His captain noticed, and was kind to me. He ordered Rumlow to back off. His captain was one Agent Pierce, which didn't mean much to me until we arrived at Councilman Pierces office, and the secretary said his father was expecting him. I met Duncan Blackwood once, and he was called Alexander Pierce Jr.

"No, no..." He frowns as I shake my head. "...No, you got get out of here. He'll kill you too, please, I don't want anyone else to die." He frowns, and looks at me, but he doesn't turn around and leave, like he needs to do. "Please, please leave, or your going to end up dead like Clint and Erik, please leave!"

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2033 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

"DUNCAN BLACKWOOD" A.K.A ALEXANDER PIERCE JR. 

STRIKE TEAM CAPTAIN 

* * *

_Jesus Christ..._  She really believes that. She put her hand right on my heart and begged me to abandon her because she really thinks we killed agent Barton and Doctor Selvig.  _...I told her to stop acting like a martyr and she tells me to leave her behind?!_

"Your friends are not dead Nora, and I am not leaving you." I can't leave her now even if I wanted to not when I've got words flashing in digital letters across the cornea of my left eye.

AGENT PIERCE. MISSION OBJECTIVE: RETRIEVE AND PROTECT THE 0-8-4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> Okay, so there were a few big reveals in this chapter, mostly centered around Duncan. Now I'm going to avoid potentially spoiling anything for anyone who may not have seen Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D season one yet, but for those who have the references should be pretty easy to spot. At this point though I imagine almost everyone has either seen or familiarized themselves with Captain America: the Winter Soldier, and knows the name Alexander Pierce.
> 
> No, my Alexander Pierce is obviously not the same one, and I'll explain. I thought up and started writing this story back before the first Avengers movie came out, and then decided to rewrite it for the sake of quality and pacing, so I developed the character Duncan, and blended him together with a very minor character from the comics that I never imagined would make it into the movies. I was wrong, but by that point I liked the character so much, and he was such an important part to my plot that I couldn't and didn't want to change him. So I made him the son of the Alexander Pierce from the movies.
> 
> Also, if anyone is questioning why mind controlled Clint hasn't outed Duncan to Loki yet, its because he doesn't know. Yes, Duncan is a former STRIKE team Captain, and that makes him part of S.H.I.E.L.D, and yes, he is the son of a big shot in that clubhouse. But don't forget he is currently working for MI-6 and just because they work in the same business doesn't mean they know everyone else they work with, I mean just because you work at "burger king" doesn't mean you know every single other "B.K." employee in the world, or the CEO's son.
> 
> DUNCANS ACCENT TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> I'm sorry loove, but come again? Ye want me, tae watch yer moggie fur ye? = I'm sorry love, but come again? You want me, to watch your cat for you?
> 
> Gie up = Get up.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO 

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO 

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2048 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA ELAINE 

* * *

_Its a door, its just a door Nora, its just a damn..._ Its just a metal surface with several layers of different colored chipping green paint and a closed metal shutter padlocked over the obviously placed window. Its just intimidating, and in infuriating, its just the last thing between me and really seeing my friends.

Its just me being scared.

 _I... I basically ran to this door after he told me they weren't dead._  My friends were alive! I didn't screw up, I didn't get them killed.

I was so sure, when Loki 'teleported' out of that room that I had set him on a warpath with a knife in his hand and blood on his mind. I snapped, I lost it, I gave up, I was ready for it to all go away and this inconsiderate fake Scottish asshole came in and ruined everything with the words of a field medic.

He said my friends weren't just alive, but they were being treated like humans again, they were with a doctor! I started sobbing again, I couldn't help it. Joy and agony, relief and guilt, I just couldn't hold it.  _It was less a roller-coast and more a hurricane in my head._ But it didn't matter because I kept them after all.

Now a new dress and some gauze bandages later and I can't find the strength to put my hand on the door handle, because they are on the other side, and I don't know if I'm ready to see them!

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2049 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

"DUNCAN BLACKWOOD" A.K.A ALEXANDER PIERCE JR. 

* * *

I watched her slow down about a step before she stopped completely and it was enough of a warning to keep me from walking into the back of her. It didn't surprise me that she might be nervous, whether Barton was her 'brother' or not he still dulled his blades on her bones. You don't overcome feelings like that just by saying he didn't mean to do it.

It was the way her body almost rocked back a step that really proved that, if I wasn't already sure by the tremor in her hands. She is chickening out, so I take a little pity on her.

Resting my hand on her shoulder for just a millisecond I give her a tiny squeeze as those pretty mint chocolate eyes shoot to mine while I skirt around in front of her. Its silent but the communication is there.  _Its okay, I am going to keep you safe. Don''t worry, just trust me and take a breath._  And like a good girl I watch her do just that. She closes her eyes and her shoulders lift as her chest expands, then she lets it out and her hands are steadier, just in time for me to knock on the door. "Sairrr Ah got 'er."

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2050 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

_She wears my fashions beautifully._ It was a pleasant nostalgia to see her wear my color again in the previous dress, but I must say I like this one more. The overlapping folds of its V neck line terminating into the double banded belt of her empire waist is a nod to the slanted strips in my own attire. I can almost entertain, and that this fashion choice might signify a transformation in her heart.  _The mortal chose well even if he hid it under a lab coat._

"Leave us." I order, prompting her to draw a nervous breathe at my clipped tone, before the sight of my soft smile reassures her I'm not upset, but am simply being a stern leader. The next thing my words draw from her is confusion however when I say "both of you."

The physician had been hidden from her view by the partition of the heavy white plastic in the far end of the room, but following my order he sets down what had been occupying his hands and parts those curtains. It is enough to give her a glimpse inside, and one I know she takes because of the hitched whimper that leaves her throat right before her knees knees start to shake.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2051 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA ELAINE 

* * *

I felt his hands catching me, those leather sleeves and metal clad arms wrapping around my waist as his strength and his height more then anything secures my feet back under me, and I let him because I was wrong. I thought, maybe I was almost ready to see them again. I was wrong. I wasn't ready to see them like that!

I hate doctors. I hate hospitals, and medicine so much. I hate it because its what I woke up to. I had no idea where I was, or who I was, but I had needles in my arms and tubes in my throat and I tried to take them out, and 'they' came in. Hands in white coats with more needles and more tubes and petty tiny words that they thought would make it all better! I broke one of their arms before they won.

I hate everything about 'modern medicine' so much, and now I can see my family dressed in all of it. Tubes and needles and unconsciousness, and I just can't stand it!

"Take them off, I gotta take them off them!" I should have known he wouldn't let me. I barely rolled my foot forward before his arms abandoned their slack and I feel his chest even more acutely against my back.

"Shh, no..." He starts, with the tone of reason in his intent, except my ears aren't willing to hear it. "No, Loki, you're hurting them!"

There's a second, where struggling actually seems like an option. A second where deception seems like a possibility. A second before he turns me in his hands and presses on my heart with more words. "I have done this, for you my dear. Why does it not please you?"

"Because its not what I want!"  _He did this for me? He thought THIS was what I wanted? How could he._ I wanted my friends, healthy and strong, even if they were still chained. I didn't want those chains to be needles and IV's though! "Its not! I..."

"...Wanted save them from the hands of death." he finishes for me. "And they are Arnora, I have kept my promise." I thought hands was the heavy word in that sentence, crashing in on me with a foreign sensation mixed with my own emotions at the mention of death, but the word promise is what really hits me with hope.

 _Promise, a promise._ I steel myself again. It takes me squeezing the tears out of my eyes, it takes my clenching my teeth to trap the breath in my lungs, it takes me shaking my head before I let it out to sooth the burn in my chest, it takes a steady breath transforming into a shakey sob as I look over my shoulder at them again, struck by that horrible image all over.

He made an assumption, it was wrong, but it was so right at the same time. I didn't actually pay for this with one of his promises, I was too upset for that kind of logic at the time and the word never left me. But I would pay it in a heartbeat and I will now. I'd start reciting it like a song, except I'm not ready for words again just yet, so I I nod heavily and let him pull me back into a hug.

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012 

2055 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

Memory is a fine ally, but an ally you cannot separate from its traitorous partner, sentimentality. The words I spoke to her brought forth both.

I held her like this once, yet it wasn't like this at all. We weren't standing, we were on the floor in each others arms and it was her hands that wouldn't let go of me. She shook with fear and pain, and overwhelming relief. Both of us were relieved. Her neck was just as raw and bloody as my hands, and bared the bruises of that coil crushing my knuckles into her flesh as I tried to pull it off.

I let something into Asgard, and it attacked what was mine to prove its power!

My own schemes almost got her killed because I involved her in them. I thought I lost her with that, and then this lovely creature lied to Odin, taking the chance to condemn her own enemies while she choose to defend me, and she came back to my halls that night!

'It' did make me loose her though in the end. It took something it had no right to, it took what she valued most in life, and when she came to me to help her get it back I made a horrible mistake. I made that thing pay for my loss of her, dearly.

I never thought I'd earn her forgiveness for that, and then I thought I'd never have the chance. Heimdall can see everything he casts his gaze toward, and many go to him to look where they cannot. Her father did that, but Heimdall could not not find her, he only saw mourning and ruin.

He believed she was dead, and he blamed me for that and sought vengeance. We continued to believe that for six hundred years. I continued to believe that all chance was gone. Those thoughts make me hold her tighter, half to prove she is still here and half to prevent her from leaving me again.

"I love you Arnora, I will give whatever you ask, just stay with me." I can hear her breathe out as my arms press in but she doesn't protest the strength of my grip. She simply looks down at her hand resting on my chest, and lets her eyes follow it as it trails upwards to mine as her thumb teases the line of my jaw.

"I... I've never been in love Loki." The admission stings for a fraction, with the implication it might mean she includes now in that 'never'. That thought though is only a half thought because I can see in her expression and eyes that there is more to be said. "I c-couldn't be, not with... "

She cannot finish it, but as her eyes fall back to her hand and is I feel her trembles I accept that she doesn't need to. I know what her silences speaks for her.  _How could she ever allow herself to ever really love anyone, when she feared such a large part of it?_

I don't want to show her the pity that makes me feel for her, but I don't know what else to offer her. I had those connections, even if they ended up as only deceptive sweetness, I still had them. But to have to actively deny yourself that for the sake of your sanity and health is fate being cruel beyond measure.

It makes her all the more beautiful to me as she tilts her chin to accept the touch of my hand and smiles at me despite the tear that rolls down the slope of my fingers.

"I've only..." she finds the need to take a short breath to keep her words from shaking before she drives on. "...ever been able to have friends. I won't pretend this doesn't scare me a little." She adds quickly, and continues even quicker despite the sharp frown that forms on my face. "The idea that everything I know, I was told, might all be a lie..."

I can feel her shivering softly, which has nothing to do with my cool touch. I can see her eyes fidget as they fail to focus on my collar before all of her stills as she closes her eyes with gentle force. "But you have me now, and I'd like you to show me what its like, please."

"Which one my dear?" I ask after a pause when it becomes clear she isn't going to elaborate. Her answer couldn't have possibly made me happier, and before I let my logic convince my desire better of it I press to her cheek, risking as close as I dare to her lips. She replies,

"Both. The truth and love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> DUNCAN'S ACCENT TRANSLATIONS:  
> Sairrr Ah got 'er. = Sir I got her.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> I have also created a separate page for you, the reader to leave suggestions you would like to see in the story, both past, present and future tense. For further details please check out THE NORA SAGA FANS SUGGESTION PAGE. You can find it by going to my profile page or following this link.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3456788
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

* * *

WEDNESDAY, MAY 2ND 2012

2048 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA ELAINE

* * *

They didn't make a sound, but, when that door close my knees touched the floor.  _I did it. Oh my god I did it._ My eyes are so full of tears there barely able to hold them, but the breathless smile I'm wearing counters the concept that I'm sad. I'm kneeling here, my face turned to the pipes of the ceiling is I lets myself quietly sob out my joy.  _I did it. I was strong and I did it._

Duncan told me to lie, and I told him I didn't think I could do it, so he told he told me to tell the truth instead. He told me to treat him just like I thought of him, which in his words was ' a piece of shit excuse of a man who put his own hide first well he watched me suffer'. I thought about it, and then I told him I could probably handle that, because I did feel that way.

He's been an ally the whole time, but even when I screamed and begged he didn't say anything, not until I wanted to die. The logical part of me knows he couldn't break his cover in front of Loki, not if he valued his life and the life's of his men but it still hurt.

He told me his team was working as the muscle on a mission with MI-6, which wasn't surprising given that STRIKE actually started is part of British intelligence before it became an international task-force. They were deep cover in a weapon smuggling ring connected to the ten rings, when the next thing they knew the piece of shit war profiteer they were working for got a call and he and his men were suddenly working for somebody else.

He was torn between pissed because they spent more then a year in deep cover to get that far up the ladder, and concerned that their cover had been blown. He stayed that way until he realized he just landed in something much bigger then a gun running ring.

He was Councilman Pierces son, how would he not know what the Tesseract was, or who Clint was after all? He didn't tell me how, but he said he was able to communicate with the outside, and he just needed more time to get the plan together. He said it would all be okay is long is I did my part and not act like I liked him to much.

I did that, but I didn't do it for him. I don't want this man to get hurt or killed, but is much is value peoples lives, I only met this man once before I met him again here. I did it for someone I value much more.

I did it for my first friend. I did it for my best friend. I did it for my my brother. I did it for my hero. The tears crest and stain my cheeks with that title. I did it for my Clint. Not Erik, though it pains me to admit I might value him less even though I care so much for him too but I did it for the man that has always been at my side.

My eyes don't give a damn about the pipes above me anymore. They turn to my the sight of my hands pushing into the ground is I curve my spine the other way and drag my knees of the dirt to let the soles of my feet touch it instead. I am my brothers little sister, and I will not kneel in the dirt in front of him and cry.

I will be strong for my brother, and for once I'm going to be the one who does what need to be done.

The curtain had long since sway back into place and stilled is it hung there, and well I hate it a little for blocking me from my family, I do take advantage of the second it gives me to prepare myself. I'm not going to like the sight I saw before anymore then I did then. Probably less actually given all I saw before was a glimpse.

The curtain rings scream in there path across the metal bar before they switch to clicking in the violent momentum of a flung back curtain, held in knuckles white enough to match. I want to tear the the cloth to pieces, I know I could to because once I ripped apart material much like this in a moment of frightening and confusing rage. S.H.I.E.L.D ended up paying the shop keeping for the ruins of that dress. I want to, but I know that aggression wont do anything except decorate the floor in broken threads.

I wonder if this is what I looked like to him when I was still kept in that room. The first time 'I' saw Clint, I was in a hospital bed too, it was much more modern then this one, but it was still a hospital bed and they had me tied to it just they have done to him.

I let my fingers trace the seam of the leather restraints on his arms, testing but not quite daring to go the extra inch and tr for skin. I wore a pair like these, because in their attempt to restrain me I got someones arm in my hand, and I snapped it halfway through his skin!

I want to take these things off him more than anything but fear and my word to Loki that I wouldn't remove any of it still my trembling fingers form following through with that desire. He didn't want me to put myself in harms way if somehow Clint was able to wake up and neither do I. I don't know which Clint I would get and my leg hurts with phantom pains just standing here.

The tubes are the next thing I want to take out, and for sake of my determination to not cry I refuse to touch those. Loki told me without hesitation when I asked what flowed through them. He said with the energy from the Tesseract still coursing through there flesh that the only way they could sleep was with the assistance of powerful sedatives. Then beyond that they were also receiving vitamins and nutrients to replenish what they had lost.

That was why there was so many IV's in them, and I accepted that it made sense but it didn't make in any easier to see them following the path of there vein from wrist to elbow.

I make my eyes turn away, because if I continue looking at that I'm going to loose my fight not to cry. Instead what my eyes notice makes me chuckle a little. There are two beds for two men, and in between them they have left me a doctors stool to sit on. That was almost sweet of him.

A part of me wants to take that chair in my hands and beat evidence of my rage into the walls with it. I don't though because the truth is I'm not angry, I'm just over come with to many feelings and I'm not sure what I should do with them all even while I know what I will do with them.

There's a utility sink with three faucets and I turn that handle so hard it continues to spin for a second after my hand leaves it to snatch up a shallow medical tray with a short stack of thin handle towels in it already. It doesn't take me very long to fill it with water, and I only waste another moment to spin the handle the other way, not even bothering to tighten it to stop the metronome of drips.

The wheels scream a little is I pull the stool closer to his side and finally make use of it for the purpose it exists, letting the tray rest in my lap is I sit down and wring out the cloth. He looks terrible, and what kind of little sister would I be if I didn't do something about that.

He does look terrible, which is made all the more distressing by the fact that he actually looks better. The red irritation around his eyelids is less now despite the light diffused glow still shining through his skin. I try not to think about that, and focus instead on the stubble shadowing his chin from not being able to shave, and the why his sink looks dull from being unwashed for days.

I can take care of one of those problems with what I have in my lap, and a part of me wonders if perhaps I can find something to give him a shave with is well before I think better of it. Even if it was just an electric trimmer I wouldn't want it because I am afraid of what 'Clint' would do with it, and what I might too.

I'm so afraid of the memory of that doppelganger of my brother, that I might try to hurt him just to keep it from coming back out, and the last thing in the world I ever want to do is hurt Clint. When I told Loki I didn't know what love was like that was the truth, and because I didn't know, once I thought I might be in love with Clint, once when he was the only person I ever saw because I couldn't handle any more then one.

It turns out I am, but not in the way I thought back then. My view of love was rather limited then, and I didn't know all the different forms it could take. I actually love so many people when you stop limiting it to romantically.

"Hey..." There's a tremor in my fingers that I crush with a fist before I continue."..Clint." I will not touch my brother with shaking hands. He is in there somewhere, and he deserves better then that. I moment let one moment of fear ruin three years of friendship.  _He's unconscious Nora, Loki wouldn't leave you alone with him if if wasn't safe._ "its me Nora, I'm just going to clean you up a little okay?"

I know he wont answer me, and even if his silence sting a little because I kind of want to here that half joking tone in his voice again, I really don't want him to at the same time because I don't know 'who' would be speaking. I'm just talking to him because he cant open his eyes and I want to know whats going on so I don't surprise him.

He doesn't move at all when I trace that damp cloth over his skin, and that tears my heart so hard in two different directions it almost feels like its going to make me bleed, but I just wet it and do it again. And again. Starting from his forehead and carefully working down the column of his throat. "there, now you look better."

Part of me wants to keep going, just so I can stop time from moving forward and stay in this moment with him, but the other part of me knows I'm pushing my limits already and I want less for him to see me cross that line and crack.

I can feel the water soaking into my bandages around the side of my hands and my knuckles is I lower that cloth back to my lap and squeeze it so hand the weave leaves its imprint in my palms. "I'm so glad to see you Clint. I've missed you so much."

"I was worried about you, but..." The cloth is thirsty for the first drop against my skin. "its all going to be okay now. You are going to be okay know. You and Erik."

Saying his name I let my eyes turn to my other friend, looking past the damnable plastic and focusing on the pulsing fog forming in his face mask that confirms he is alive.  _My old friend. I will miss you too._ My eyes don't linger there long because he isn't the one capable of what I'm hoping for. " I made sure of it. I trust you, I know you can do it."

Three more drops land on the back of my hand, a tiny oasis of wet trying to join with the climbing moisture from the pool. "Do you remember when you use to call me Alice?"

My voice is steady and the wet circle grows. "you thought you couldn't name a woman, that it was silly. But I loved that name." the pause is filled with a small chuckle. "even if it came from a book cover, especially because it came from a book cover."

When I woke up they told me because I was listed is dead, and there were still men out there responsible for the explosion that killed my parents and put me in my coma, that I couldn't go back to using my old name. So Clint had to pick a new one for me because I didn't remember any. He saw someone reading Alice and wonderland.

I fell in love with the Lewis Carroll books because of that, and the references stuck. I feel down my own rabbit whole to a strange and wondrous world too in a way. "your code was the red knight back then, do you remember that?" I let out another chuckle is I muse at the appropriateness of my next thought, which I didn't understand at the time. "Natasha was the red queen." its followed by more of a laugh. "and Steve, I heard you wanted him codenamed the white knight."

Silence comes next, before the quiet admission. "its not happening like a childrens book at all." and not a tear follows it this time. "I'm not Alice in this story, I'm..." this character doesn't exist in the books, but I cant think of a more appropriate title for what I'm choosing to become. "I'm the black queen, and I finally found my king Clint, and you need to leave me here with him."

This strength doesn't feel like mine and I'm not sure I like it, it feels like the kind of strength born out of so much pain but I'm embracing it all the same because its letting me do what I need to do with a steady voice. "I'm sorry, but it has to be this way. Loki has answers I need, and I want them more then I want you to stay here."

The last part is a whisper because I am suspicious of my seclusion, and with Loki's ability to do magick I doubt I should trust something just because I cant see it. "i know your fighting for me in there, but I want you to run away when you wake up, and take Erik with you, you cant take us both. Tell Steve I'm sorry please."

And now I'm at my limit, so standing up quickly I do one other thing before I walk out, forcing my lips to forget the feel of his forehead under them. I tried to keep them for myself, and I was sure I almost got them killed because of that, so now I'm going to do what I have to to insure they live. I'm going kill myself a little and let them go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> So this chapter officially wraps up DAY TWO of FIVE on the timeline I have set out for this story. What do you think?
> 
> Have you liked the evolution of Nora's character over the course of the last 28 chapters?
> 
> Have you found that evolution well paced and believable? Have you liked the glimpses and hints into her past and her connection with Loki?
> 
> Have you enjoyed the twists, surprises, connecting POV sections to tie the movie storyline happening outside of Nora's storyline, and references I've pulled from the TV shows?
> 
> Do you like that I'm including other character who haven't shown up yet in the movie chronology but clearly exist in it already (such is Robert Redfords Alexander Pierce, the STRIKE team, and of course the Winter Soldier)?
> 
> Was there anything you didn't like, such is details or situations you expected to be more developed than they were, or opportunities you though I should have taken more advantage of?
> 
> Let me know what you think, and I hope you find the chapters in DAY THREE just is enjoyable is the ones from DAY ONE and TWO.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> I have also created a separate page for you, the reader to leave suggestions you would like to see in the story, both past, present and future tense. For further details please check out THE NORA SAGA FANS SUGGESTION PAGE. You can find it by going to my profile page or following this link.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3456788
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0500 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

She surprised me. Not only with the time between my departure from her and her return to me, but with the manner of her return. She strode through the door the soldier opened for her, not quite with confidence in her steps, but not with cowardice either. There was purpose to her approach, and it became all the clearer when the first thing she did was pick up the decanter I put back on the desk.

She was still as my hand rested over her's with mild concern before she lifted her eyes from the container to mine and calmly spoke a request. "Drink with me if you want, but please Loki, let me do this?" After a moment I offered her a soft agreeable nod, and then filled a glass for her.

_How could I deny her such a small thing after all when I wanted such a great thing from her?_

We did not converse much at all during this time, but for her silent enquiry of more mead after the first glass was empty. That too surprised me a little. I could see the proof of her statement that she was unaccustomed to alcohol but even the strength of the asgardian mead didn't change her mind. She was determined to get drunk.

Its why I did not press her for a discussion. I understood that she needed time to let the decisions she made settle, and if she needed to numb herself to help that process I wasn't going to interfere unless absolutely necessary.

I began to feel that concern grow after how quickly she finished the second goblet full and half of the third, but found it to be without need. Even with the emotional turmoil she was so clearly trying to drown she still knew the limits of her body and stopped of her own accord.

Her next request was not made silently or with sound, but I saw the need behind it and made the gesture before it had to be. She quietly set the half filled glass ware back down and made an effort to stand. I could see the weakness in her arms as she used them to push herself up, and stood myself to help her in case that instability was in her legs as well.

If she choose to refuse my hands I would have let her in that moment, content to just stand at the ready to catch her if she fell. She didn't push me away though, and after a moment her eyes widened a bit in surprise at the gesture, her lids drooped back down and she offered acceptance with her hand.

Unsure exactly where she planned to go or what she wanted I let her lead the way while settling for keeping her on her feet, one of my hands holding her's as the other was tucked under her opposite arm against her rib cage.

I won't deny I enjoyed the feel of her form under my hand, but as tempting as the idea was I would not risking loosing the chance of being able to touch her again willingly by letting my fingers stray even an inch higher. It made the trip and the size of the room far too small.

A few paces later we were at her goal, and it turned out to be the bed. I counseled myself again toward restraint at the thoughts that appeared in my head then I freed her hand to claim the hem of the blankets instead and pull them back before I helped her sit on its surface.

She surprised me again. I assumed given her choice to go toward the bed that her purpose was sleep, and she meant to sleep alone. I was only half correct. Instead of laying down as I reached for the blankets to pull back over her legs I found my fingers engaged with something else.

She reached out and tentatively wove her own fingers between, her soft eyes studying mine as if she was looking for a note of refusal from me.  _As if I would ever turn this down._

It was intimacy and innocence, and while I always thought a moment like this would come with a hunger and fire I would have to resist, it was also strangely enough.

I let her lead me, her warm soft hand pulling mine with it as her half lidded eyes continued to stay fixed to mine. She urged me closer to the bed, then she urged me onto it. Her eyes left mine only long enough to flicker over the spot she wanted me at, and I followed that direction without protest.

Her fingers still laced in mine she shifted toward the other side of the bed to give me space as I sat at the head of it and stretched out my legs over it. Then it was I who was guiding her. She let me pull her back toward me, and I took a small bit of pleasure as I saw her expression when I defied her expectations.

I could only assume she expected me to take a kiss from her, and she while wasn't wrong in assuming I  _wanted_  to feel her lips under mine again terribly, but she wasn't ready and I wanted her kiss not her sense of obligation.

So I layed one of the pathetic pillows over my lap to spare her cheek the feel of leather and metal and I held her as she drifted off to sleep under the caress of my fingers and the purring lullaby of her kitten as it joined us.

The gentle disruption making her murmur words of promise and delightful progress in her sleep. Kenna is in her thoughts at last.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0500 HOURS (RECAP STARTING FROM 2100 HOURS) 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I knew Loki would be there, I knew he would be waiting for me to return to that room. I knew I had to give him something to make this work, and I knew I would need something to help me do that.

I hate alcohol. I loath it, its disgusting and terrible and I can thank Clint for that one. It was a little more than a month after the incident with the jalapeno poppers, so I should have know better than to take anything he gave me, but it was Clint, and I always did trust him pretty easily. He was, is, like my big brother after all. I heard some of the Agents talking about how different alcohols affected them, and because I didn't remember ever having either I asked Clint what exactly was the difference between vodka and rum.

Clint decided it was better to introduce me to them instead of just answering the question. He told me to come by later, and greeted me at the door to his quarters with two shot glasses, a bottle of orange juice he said was for chaser and a grin that should have made me turn around.

It tasted terrible, and it burned just as bad, both of them. But Clint said keep drinking, it would get better in a minute. I had my doubts about that, but did acknowledge that the tentative sip I took of the second shot didn't feel as hot as the first and decided to trust his expertise on the matter.

His 'expertise' though kept encouraging me to drink more and somehow that tiny glass never emptied no matter how many times I tipped it back. It stayed full until my stomach ended up being the empty container as I expressed my misery to a toilet in a very cramped bathroom.

I don't know how Natasha found out about what was going on, but after I finished heaving I realized she was in the bathroom with me, offering me a large glass of water and rubbing my back as she glared out the door and hissed russian words at Clint before taking me back to her quarters on the base so I wouldn't be disturbed while I slept it off what was sure to be my first hangover.

I didn't talk to Clint for almost two weeks after that, until one day he literally caged me in a hall way corner using his body and my fear of touching to keep me from running off and begged me to let him explain.

He said he was sorry, but he was trying to be a good friend and show me exactly how bad alcohol could be, both in me and in others. He didn't want me to underestimate my limit if I ever decided I wanted to drink around people, and more importantly to let me know how stupid it can make people.

When he said it like that, I reluctantly had to agree with his logic, and since I got over the worst of my anger more then a week ago but was avoiding him more out of spite at that point I decided it was finally time to stop being petty and forgive him.

Then he said I did look really cute drunk off my ass though, and there was three more days of silent treatment to round out the two weeks.

I didn't like learning that life lesson at all, but I am grateful to Clint for teaching me it now because I know exactly how my body feels when I toe that line and I want to be standing right on top of it is quickly as I can!

That was why when Loki put his hand on mine and stopped me from picking up that decanter I looked him right in the eye and I begged for it.

I can't remember my own family, who I was supposed to be dead with if it wasn't for Clint defying orders and costing his own mission to save me. I can't remember all the skills and training as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent I recieved before; that S.H.I.E.L.D never gave up on the idea they would return someday even though after years passed. I couldn't even relearn them to be the agent expected me to be because of my broken head!

I have had too many things to be ashamed of to ever be a very proud person, and that means I certainly am not to proud to beg for something I need to get the job done.

So Loki looked at me, and judging my earnest expression he let me drink, and I drank! I didn't care that I was drinking so much more then him, as he sat there on the other side of that desk idly sipping on his own glass as I emptied mine in gulps. All I cared about was drinking as much as I could before he changed his mind and how quickly I felt it heat my blood.

He was right when he said "asgardian cuisine' would be different then 'midgardian swill' . It didn't make me feel the same way as rum, vodka, or even "Duncan's" whiskey did. It had bite to the strength of its flavor, like I expected it to, but I think thats only because I drank so much so quickly. I imagine if I drank it like wine was meant to it would actually be quite nice.

It made me feel warm, but that sensation was different too. It wasn't the kind of warmth you would expect from the alcohol dilating my blood vessels. The best way I can describe it is just gentle radiant warmth from within that diffused evenly through me but didn't dissipate. Its like it was trying to even me out into a perfectly comfortable state.

Then there was the most reassuring part, I could feel it melting the tension out of my muscles and smoothing over the emotional storm in my head, but my thoughts were still surprisingly sober. I was drunk, but my ability to think and be rational was crystal clear.

It explains why Loki probably carried it with him, even here in a place so far from his home. I doubt very much he is the kind of man who would ever want to dull his mind with anything. A man like that would certainly like a wine that lacked that effect but kept the pleasant effects of the rest.

I could have kept going but I stopped myself at two and a half glasses because I could feel those other effects. My mind felt strong as ever but I couldn't truthfully say the same for my legs anymore.

Even still sitting my muscles felt so relaxed they almost didn't feel there at all. My memory of reaching a point like this before is very fuzzy, but I still recall swaying on my feet and barely staying on them. I don't want to be in that state again, as much as I was hoping to be intoxicated at this point, I don't want to be helpless or sick.

It made it very easy for me to accept it when Loki held out his hand like a gentlemen when I set down the remains of half a glass and started to stand up.

He's been nothing but gentle and proper toward me, everything you'd expect from a man raised as a Prince and was once worshipped as a God. Even with his hand on my side he didn't betray that image and he could have. Its strange that I can't decide if that bothers me, that he didn't.

Its when he pulled back after we reached the bed that I had less doubt about what I wanted. I didn't want him to go. I wanted him right there next to me. I just wanted somebody to be there with me, to not leave me alone. So I pulled on his hand like a child who had a nightmare. He complied and denied me all at the same time.

I knew trying to kiss him didn't go the way I planned before, but if he choose to kiss me I told myself I would let him. I expected he would too, given the way he held e and looked at me, but he didn't.

He simply pulled back the plush covers and sat down on the bed, his back against the head board as he urged me closer to his side with the pillow he placed over his thigh for my comfort, and let me lay my head there as he ran his fingers though my hair and waited for me to drift off to sleep and dream.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> I have also created a separate page for you, the reader to leave suggestions you would like to see in the story, both past, present and future tense. For further details please check out THE NORA SAGA FANS SUGGESTION PAGE. You can find it by going to my profile page or following this link.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3456788
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0512 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

_I feel cold._  This is a dream, I can tell that right away, because I'm outside.

I can see the sky, and feel the air. But the air bites here, wherever I am, and it offers no comfort. Not to me, or the land around me. This place is barren and white. There is nothing here for anyone, and somehow I know if I could look behind me I know I'd see shelter. But that shelter is a lie, and I know its worse then the cold.

I can't look behind me though, not that I don't wish to, I'm scared to. But I can't look because I can't move.

I'm heavy and still, and I feel like I'm not really in my own skin. Its like I'm a consciousness outside of myself that its aware its a consciousness. Its just observing. It feels like Clint drugged me.

I'm being carried. I know that, somehow in this disturbingly calm haze I know that, and I'm not afraid. These arms, this hand, they feel familiar.

I want to look closer, but I can't. My face is resting against someone's neck, and all I can see is the blur of blackness. That's all this person is, a black mass that I somehow know is a man, and familiar.

We're both cold; I can feel him shivering with me, and even though I'm not aware of my own skin I know I am. I ache beyond the numb, and beyond the ache I feel nothing. The me in this moment thinks nothing of that, the me that shouldn't be here fears that. It fears the knowledge that it might be frostbite.

This is a dream.  _It feels too real._ This is a dream. I have all my fingers, I have all my toes. I have my hands and feet. This isn't real, this cold isn't real This man isn't real. I can wake up. I can leave this place. I can leave if I want.

"Why?"

I'm not in the man's arms anymore. I can see the shape of me, of us behind me, but I am standing in front of those human shells now, and I can't turn. The little girl asks me again, "Why?"

There were two of them but the one who spoke is bare foot, with flowers and wheat grass in her brown hair, and a silver key in her hand. They stand looking away from me and a line of red leaks from between her shoulders and stains the snow. I think she is me because I can feel that blood on my back!

"Why?"

A little boy. With corn silk hair, and black boils on his skin is sitting on a man's shoulders, a man who is dressed in simple clothes, and soot. They look away too.

"Why what?" I try to ask. I don't understand. The question is too vague. I want to answer, I do, I want to tell them there's a reason, but I don't know why they ask why?

"Why?"

Another one, a pair. A man with tan skin and black hair with braids, and strangely cut clothes. He holds hands with a woman with dark blonde curls and a flowing blue dress, whose tears I can't see, but for the way they soak into the snow at her feet.

I tried to move. I did move. It was like a rubber band snapped me back. I can see black blurring in my vision again, and I'm being held.

"Why?"

Another voice, another person and I can't move. I can't speak to them. My thoughts are there, my desire to ask is there. I want to know why, I want to know who they are I do, I want so much for them to forgive me and I don't know why I want that but I can't ask them!  _It won't let me ask them!_

"Why?", " Why?"S _top._  "Why?" S _top it._  "Why?" Stop it! Please! Stop! " Why?" I don't know who you are! I don't know what you want! Stop it! "Why?" STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON'T WANT THIS! I DON'T WANT ANY OF YOU! GO AWAY!

"Why would you say that?" I'm not being held any more. I'm standing on my feet again and looking at myself.. The voice is mine this time.

I'm standing there across from me and 'my' back isn't turned. I can see 'my' own face and its painted by pain! My eyes are sunken, my cheeks too. My lips are blue and cracked. I'm covered in bruises! I can see the on my thin legs and arms under the thread pair and stained excuse of a medical gown! I can see metal sticking out of my calves and chains on my wrist! I'm looking at me, and can see the angry betrayal in 'my' bloodshot and blackened eyes.

"Why would you let us go?" but the words 'I' speak aren't angry, theIr sad and tired. 'I'm' tired and it scares me. I'm closing my eyes!

"No..." I can't do that, I know I can't. I'm cold, but I need to keep my eyes open. If I let them close they won't open again. I need to stay awake. I need to! They're all counting on me. He's counting on me, the man carrying me, we made promises. I was going to go 'home' with him.

We were going to be free. We were going to be together, and happy, the three of us. Me, him, and his small friend he had to leave behind. We would all take care of eachother.

"You are free." It's his voice. I can't feel his breath, or the warmth that should be there, but I feel those words rumble out of his throat as he carries me. "I set you free."

Theres a little hand wrapped around my finger, with little fingernails and plumb knuckles. There's a man's hand holding my wrist that is colder and harder then the ice. and I notice there is no scar there anymore. There's a knife in the snow and I'm staining them with the blood as it runs from the band of skin missing from my arm.

But the blood doesn't bother me, I know its okay. This blood set me free.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0518 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

I didn't think she would do this. The last time we were in a position like this, was in Asgard, in my chambers, and I had to persuade her with a gentle but unrelenting kiss.

Things were about to change, for both of us. In fact they already had. Odin cast his verdict and his word therefore became reality. I was furious! It was not at all what I wanted! Something unforeseen and nearly unforgivable happened, and all I wanted to do was come out on top of the situation; instead I had to stand by stoically while Odin shackled me with a promise. Not my promise, his promise, and not by my will at all.

Like the loyal and courageous woman she was she followed me back to my hall. She shouldn't have, I intended to tear that space apart, and all that was in it. But she only looked at me with caution, she did not look afraid. She tried to reason with me! What a brave beautiful young woman she was then. She tried to tell me that a marriage to Freya's daughter would not be so bad.

She said she knew the girl, this Sigyn, and that she was sweet and kind and not like her mother. I told her Sigyn wasn't her. I told her the truth.

She didn't know what to do with it then either, but she did not run into the room as she did this time, she simply shrank into herself and tried to build walls between us with excuses of honor and obligation.

I wouldn't have it, I had been honest with her, and I would be damned if she wasn't going to be honest too, with herself and with me.

I backed her into the wall and took her face in my hands and took that kiss. I was young, we both were. Asgard marks no age between childhood and adult, but we were somewhere in between, trying to walk the path that others wanted for us, and pretend we couldn't see the one we both really wanted. I wanted to show it to her. I just wanted her to let herself see it.

She put her hands on me and tried to push me back, I startled her after all and was stealing this kiss, but I was sure of my assumption so I did not stop. I made more of me to hold her hands down.

I wasn't rough with her, even though these weren't illusions but solid doppelgangers I didn't want to hurt her so they didn't either. They wove their fingers through her's, and gently held her arms down, trailing light caresses over her skin, occasionally pressing soft kisses to her shoulders as I continued to beg for her acceptance with mine.

And then she finally started kissing me back and gave up the illusion that she didn't feel something for me too. I held her with me through the night, in my bed. We did not go father then kissing, because she wished it. I wanted so much more from her, but she had wet eyes, and I was not going to be  _that_ kind of a thief. I wanted her, not just the flesh she came in.

I had to push her to it then, but this time she needs no such motivation and she looks so peaceful as I watch her sleep with a soft smile. Her pet is sleeping with her, and serving the purpose I set for it. Small tendrils of green light drift from the small shivering mammal and seep into her skin, carrying well crafted memories with them.  _I will have her again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> So there are a lot of clue's to Nora's past, both in her dream, and in Loki's POV. There are also quite a few details about my take on other Asgardians. I do have Sigyn in this series, and she will show up in the prequels once I start publishing those, though my interpretation might be a little different than most. I am trying to include her in a way that will have minimal conflict with her if she ever actually makes it into the official MCU.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> I have also created a separate page for you, the reader to leave suggestions you would like to see in the story, both past, present and future tense. For further details please check out THE NORA SAGA FANS SUGGESTION PAGE. You can find it by going to my profile page or following this link.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3456788
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0527 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

_My hands are green?_  It was a blink, and then I was sitting in a bed, again, trying to look at my arm and all I saw was soft green threads. "Arnora?!"

I didn't even remember he was there, and I must have looked startled because the next thing he says is "Shh, it is alright" as he gently wraps his fingers around my palm and lets his thumb trace my knuckles in a reassuring way. "You must slow down."

That confuses me for a second, until my ears make me register the fact that I'm breathing hard. Its like I just ran or something, I can feel my pulse pounding, and its all too much.

He sees that too, I can tell as he shifts closer and lets his other hand cradle the back of my head. "Shh, close your eyes." he instructs, intending I guess to walk me through this, and thats ok with me because I really feel like I'm going to cry again. I just want somebody else to take control for a second. "Focus on my voice, there is nothing for you to fear here, it was only a dream."

That he knows I was dreaming isn't a surprise. I feel asleep with my head in his lap like a child desperate for comfort and security. He most likely was awake the whole time, watching me. He probably saw me fidgeting in my sleep too right before I woke up with a start.

I think, after I stop having to worry about crossing over the edge into hyperventilating and an anxiety attack that I'm more surprised that Loki is wrong. I wasn't afraid of what I saw in that dream. I was upset by it, and I admit the content of it was distressing, but it was as if I couldn't truly feel afraid until I woke up. A _s horrible as that dream was I felt safe in it?!_

"Shh" his voice echos again in my ear, this time closer just like he is. The hand that held mine abandons it and guides his arm to circle around my back instead, trailing unexpected warmth over my spine. "Focus on me Arnora, regain your calm first, we will get to those thoughts after, shh."

I take comfort in that unusal warmth of his flesh now, grateful for something else other than the cold. I think I am scared of the cold, though I never was before. There was something horrible connected to that cold, I know it. How I saw myself, those people,  _those children_ , that knife with my blood on it, how could it not be something horrible?

Loki called it a dream, but I know what those are. They are fragments of reality being processed by your subconscious mind as it tries to categorize your memories. If any of that was a memory I don't want it. I don't, I  _don't_ , "I don't, I don't, I don't, I don't want it, I don't."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0531 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

LOKI

* * *

I knew she would not be calmed so easily, I could feel it in her, the small tremor in her muscles growing steadier even as I spoke failing words to her. It is why when she started her frantic chant that I did not make a very strong attempt to restrain her, I knew it would only make the situation worse.

I tried to pull her closer when she first pressed her palms into my chest, but when that push bordered on a strike as she repeated it I made the choice to let her slip out of my grasp and watched her scramble to her feet off the bed.

They did not take her very far. Once she was off the bed she slowed to a stop with her back toward me and brought her arms up to her chest out of my view. I let that continue until I realized what she was about to do.

After she fell asleep from her drinking I carefully removed the gauze from her hands to tend the broken skin of her knuckles. One by one I painted her cuts with the dust of a stone coating my fingertips, then after each tiny injury was banished I retrieved the package. It seems so long ago that I brought it into this room, but the timing did not seem appropriate until now. A pair of emerald green silk gloves long enough to brush her elbows, and they looked as lovely on her skin as I knew they would.

But now if I let her it appears as if she intends to rip them apart to get them off her. It seems I startled her a little as I stepped up behind her, the flinch and the sharp way she turns to look at me all the while curling her arms to herself possessively leave little room for any other conclusion. "Shh" I sooth again before holding out my hand in pleading invitation. "You are only going to ruin them with this haste. Let me help you?"

There is a pause, and then her body seems to shrink in on itself as she makes her choice, and breathes out a broken sigh before closing her wet eyes and shaking her head sharply as she lifts her arms in offering. "Okay."

It is almost heart breaking, and it might be if I was not so pleased and sure on my guess about what upset her, she remembered something.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0534 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

I could feel that knife. No, it wasn't a knife. It was a burn, Nora. You know it was. They told you. We were meeting one of our contacts.  _It didn't happen in the cold. It was warm where we were._  It was in Bangkok near the Khlong Toei district market. I  _wasn't being carried, I wasn't hurt._  Mom and Dad were already in the car, a turquoise Volkswagen Polo.  _We were in civilization, not some frozen wasteland._  It came from a high rise and went through the back window. I hit my head on the concrete foundation of a pillar, and was sprinkled with burning debris. I  _wasn't bleeding, THERE WAS NO KNIFE! It was a burn, and if I just look at it I can prove it to myself._

Thats why I was tugging at the hem of those gloves so hard. I just needed to look at that scar, if I could do that then everything would be fine again. Then he was behind me and for half a second I was sure he was going to stop me.

He wasn't going to though, he wanted to help me, so I didnt' ruin what had to be a gift from him. He probably thought I hated them or something. That made me feel horrible, but all all I could do was slump my shoulders and nod my consent before I gave him my hands.  _Let him do it, he owns me now so why dispute that possession at my hands._

He makes it intimate, because it is intimate. When you spend so long living behind a wall of cloth and avoidance, letting someone take anything off you is an enormous step, heavy with trust and personal connection. He seems to know that, and the way he does it makes it that much more.

Pantomiming a caress up my wrist he doesn't actually touch me until his fingers curl around my palm and he gently urges me to turn it over, changing the position of them from held up in surrender to simply held. The hand that did the turning then trails back down, his knuckles and the back of his finger sliding down to my elbow while the other hand claims my fingers as he pulls the sheer fabric slowly upward inch by inch until it drifts over the highest tip of my fingers and sways in his hand.

"Loki, please." Part of me appreciates that he is exercising such care and patience in this, but another part of me just wants this to be done. Hearing the notes in those words he nods his understanding before he presses a kiss to the silk over the other palm and then removes that one as well and crushes my denial to death under the truth.

Its wrong, it doesn't look like a burn at all. It doesn't look like they grafted skin over it, the shape is wrong. The shape is exactly the same is the edges that knife made. "Its wrong, oh god Loki its not right!"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0538 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

LOKI

* * *

Hearing my name spoken in her distress I tried to pull her back so I could offer the comfort I assumed she needed and would welcome. I was wrong on one count and might be on the other as well. She pushed my hand away, the suddenness of it almost stinging the skin is it connects, and her steps pull her away from me.

"No!" she does not yell, but she does not need to. Even without the volume her voice conveys the level of her raging emotions just fine. "No, don't you touch me." It is half a plea and half a command as I watch her hand clutch so hard at the point just below her wrist that her shaking fingertips turn white.

"I don't want it." She sounds almost angry, as if that sentence is meant to be an accusation. "I don't want it." But the next one just sounds frightened. "I don't want to remember, I don't."

"Arnora" Her eyes meet mine at that name, the look in her pretty features are so lost, confused and needy that it stings as I continue. "You remembered something, it is okay to be scared, such revelations are going to be intense, but that is no reason to stop trying."

"I dont want it." she repeats, but this time there is something darker and stronger in her eyes. "I don't want what you want, this is what you want. I was happy."

"You were lied to, my dear." I try to reason, and that proves to be a mistake. The darker note in her eyes solidifies into angry offense. "I. Was. Happy. Loki!" She huffs, shaking her head as she catches her breath and steels her jaw. "I had a job, and a 'family' and friends, I knew who I was, and my life was what I wanted it to be!"

I want to say something to that, but she does not give me a pause to do so. "And then you come in here, with 'your' answers, and your 'purpose' and 'plans' for me, just assuming I should and would accept them. My best friend tried to kill me because of what you did to him!"

"Arnora, you..." I try to caution her, feeling the current of my own emotions start to rise but then she makes a request that succeeds only because the shock of it.

"Shut up!Shut up, this is your fault!" She says, now making a clear accusation as she lets her eyes land on her thigh, looking through the dress and handprint scars to the reason they were created beneath all of it. "You took my friends, my family away from me, you took my home Loki, so you could have me."

"Well I'm here." She stands taller, her hand sweeping over the expanse of her. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." She finishes with a bit of a chuckle. "But what gives you the right to want my sanity too?"

I close my eyes and shake my head at the question. "No Arnora." I let my expression and my outstretched palm plead with her. "I am not trying to take that. They have been lying to you my love, I am simply trying to show you the truth of what you are."

"I'm a human being!" She counters with an angry hiss, the language of her body bordering on aggressive. "I'm Nora Elaine, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D! I was born in MAINE!" She finishes with a shout before making herself stop and steady her breath.

"Arnora, please, I do not want to fight with you." I try again, but she does not even acknowledge that sentence. She just continues with her tirade. "You come into my life, like you belong in it, and tell me I'm not human! I'm not like everyone else on this planet! What right do you have to do that? Do you have any idea what that feels like?!"

"I do." I say matter of factly with a notable lack of passion in my voice."  _And so I fill the role of Odin at last._  Those words do not please her, they only seem to offend her.

She scoffs a little in disbelief. "Really Loki, you do?" It is a rhetorical question and we both know that. "Because I've seen pictures and heard the stories, I can't see anything that makes you different that any other Asgardian or you brother..."

"DO NOT TALK TO TALK TO ME ABOUT THOR!" I had not meant to snap at her. I had been doing my best not to, but that comparison cut too deeply and my temper breached the surface of my control. The sight of her eyes widening in fright and her arms coming up to shield her chest again as she retreats a few more steps back from the ground she gained in her ire.

It makes the distasteful decision for me. "I am different than them, and I do know how it feels to learn this truth." I watch the fear drain from her eyes only to be replaced by stunned confusion as her eyes track the rising line between illusion and my natural hue. "I was deceived once too."


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> I have also created a separate page for you, the reader to leave suggestions you would like to see in the story, both past, present and future tense. For further details please check out THE NORA SAGA FANS SUGGESTION PAGE. You can find it by going to my profile page or following this link.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3456788
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0542 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

Green was the last color that captured my attention, but now I have moved up a level on the scale. Green gloves to blue skin.

There was no shimmering light on the edges of this like the rest of his magickal displays, and that difference meant something, I knew that even if I didn't know what it was exactly. Perhaps this wasn't magick, or at least a very different kind.

The light blue color rose up his throat, and over his chin all the way until it slid beneath his hairline, revealing raised designs on his skin that might be scars of their own if they didn't look so clean. It followed the retreat of the other color, a color I just assumed without thinking about, was meant to be the natural hue of his skin. Caucasian pink vs maya blue. Now I don't know which one is the 'real' one.

Green vs red. His eyes were closed as the blue crawled higher, almost with the beginnings of a grimace on his features. Then he opened them with a look of pained reluctance and made them meet mine. Part of the myriad of emotions in his eyes looks afraid. They weren't that wild shade of forest green I've become so used to anymore. Now they are vermillion red, with a diluted shade of it covering the whites of his eyes.

All that, anger, and anxious fear, and desperation I felt a moment ago fades. I still feel it, but buried under a mountain of numbing wool, and his simple sentence. "Now you see me." You'd think, by his voice I sent those feelings to him. "Now you know."

 _Now I know._ There so much to that sentence. There's his tone, angry and sad, as if he is disappointed with himself for showing me this, as if he didn't mean to; the words that he spoke before.  _"...I do know how it feels to learn this truth. I was deceived once too." T_ here's a conclusion in there and it actually makes me hurt for him just thinking about it.

I'm a feather pillow, Clint was right when he jokingly called me that. I always have been and will be, I know what sorrow, shame, pain and fear are like and I hate seeing it in others. Its why I always put so much effort into being there for people, any and all people. So the idea that he really does know, that something similar happened to him, it breaks my heart. That worries me a little, how easily those feelings came and how true they feel.

"Loki..." I speak one word, and then I stop. I didn't think about it, but my hand rose out of... concern or curiosity I suppose, and it got the strangest reaction out of him. He pulled away from me! This man has been pushing and pushing to touch me more and more, and he actually just recoiled from the possibility of my hand with a look of worry in his eyes and a stern note note in his voice.

"No." He councils me with a softer voice as he watches me stiffen at that word. "You must not touch this Arnora." The sentence repeats back in my head with a question mark at the end.  _This? Not 'me' or 'my skin' but THIS?_ Its his skin, isn't it? Does he really hate that part of him? How could someone feel that way?

I hadn't even noticed it because the transformation was so stunning it consumed all of my attention, but across the few steps that divide us the air grew just cool enough to form the goosebumps that are now leaving my skin.

"Thats it, isn't it?" _Loki has always felt cool to the touch, and in this form he actually cools the air around him and refuses to let me touch him._ It explains everything. I have hand shaped scars enveloping my thigh. He didn't burn my skin to stop the bleeding, he froze me.

"You can't control it, can you?" I spoke the question before I could think about it, and if had I would have stopped myself. Its met with him breathing out an angry hiss between clenched teeth.

"I could encase every man and the very ground they stand on in ice, do not question my strength Arnora, it is most unwise right now!"

"I wasn't." I offer back honestly and then stop talking, because I'm not sure what else to say, and don't want to say the wrong things anymore. Apparently that in itself was the right thing.

Loki closes his eyes and with a small shake of his head and breaths out a frustrated sigh before he turns and lets himself land heavily in the armchair on the other side of the pillar by the bed . "My life has driven the delicacy out of me. I've frightened you with that, I'm sorry. You will not see it again, you have my word."

I say nothing to that, I can't. I just look at him as he rests his elbow on the arm and pinches his temple between the fingers of one hand in frustrated silence.  _I've frightened you with 'that'... You will not see 'it' again._ He just keeps confirming how he views himself, and it bothers me more each time. I can understand that some people don't like the person their life choices made them, but he seems to be disgusted by the very body life gave him, and that I can't understand.

That makes me find my tongue again. "I've met red..." Hearing me speak I watch his visible eye open again behind the cage of his fingers and look at me as I continue. "...Yellow and black people Loki. I've even seen green once." He gives me even more of his attention as I push on, his hand abandoning his face and dropping to his lap as he regards me with a combination of suspicious curiosity. "I'm light brown, and you can turn blue. I'm not afraid of the color of your skin Loki, any more than any other skin."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0549 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

I don't know what to make of that. I know what I want to, though. I want it to be as true and as simple as she makes it sound. That she accepts me and all of me without question or fear, even the part that marred her for life.

I despise the filthy Jotun blood in me. Fate, and the teachings of a father who wasn't mine made sure of that. If I had a memory of it, time or Odin took it away long ago, and I have only that deceiver's word, and my knowledge of history to go by.

I am a frost giant, but I am small, and I do not share all their traits. I am impure by their standards. The genetic blame must lie with my mother, who ever she was, for I stood before Laufey and looked on him three times before I killed him.

Once the Jotuns were not such a segregated society. Before their ill conceived invasion of Midgard and the Unification Vanaheim into Asgard they were allies with the Vanir. An asgardian noble tried to orchestrate the assassination of the young sow of a princess, Freya. It led to war and the Vanir married off many of their daughters to gain the strength of Jotun soldiers.

The Jotuns in turn craved the magical abilities in Vanir blood. Those beasts had a way in to touch those women, a way I do not know. They made the half Jotuns. A bloodline they would later wage genocide upon.

Vanir blood manifests in a unique way when mixed with Jotun blood. It could hide as a recessive trait for generations, and then suddenly reappear because Vanir blood did not dilute as it was passed down the bloodline.

Without knowing my birth mother I lack true evidence, but I don't need it to know my theory is sound. I carry Vanir blood, enough that it affects my appearance and I was cast aside to starve in the cold that wouldn't kill me.

I want to believe her, that this Jotun flesh does not disgust or frighten her, but I know it should. On Laufeys orders every half Jotun man, woman, and child on Jotunheim was cut down, and every Vanir wife as well. Her people despise 'my' people, as they should. "Your words are kind, but you do not understand what you ..."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0553 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

"Please don't say that." I barely let him finish. Closing my eyes to keep my self control I let out that plea for him to stop. I hate those words, so much. People have always treated me different once they knew about my conditions, and accepted that that because I knew they did make me different, but I still hated it. I stopped being a normal person in their eyes and became some broken thing they pitied.

Its like the second they knew, they became part of a different reality. I still looked like them, and talked like them. Ate, slept, and breathed like them, but I wasn't like them. They threw out that phrase so casually, as if I didn't think or feel things like they did, as if they actually believed, no matter the subject, that I 'would not understand'.

I always bore it with silent grace because I was a loyal and dedicated agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. They sacrificed a mission to save my life, and for two and a half years they didn't pull the plug even though I showed no sign of my coma breaking. I owed them my life, even if I had to start over and spend every day clawing my way up hill. The least I could do was smile. But Loki isn't S.H.I.E.L.D.

"I've heard that so much from people and I hate it." And I'm tired of pretending. "My words aren't kind, they're honest." I had his attention already, but I seem to gain it more with that sentence, and his disbelief as well if his eyes are true. It wouldn't surprise me if he did doubt me. A man who schemes can only see the schemes in others.

"My best friend slept and hasn't aged in seventy years." S _teve Rogers._ "I've met a man with the world's greatest battery keeping him alive."  _Tony Stark._  "My brother almost shot a 'god'." C _lint Barton and Thor._  "And my sister was almost killed by the world's angriest man."  _Natasha Romanoff and Dr. Bruce Banner._  "You are different Loki, but I've met different before."  _I_   _am an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, we do not lead normal lives._  "I don't know how they treated you, or what prejudice Asgard has toward what you are, but I don't share it."

"No..." There is an eternity of silence between us where he just looks at me in stillness. Then he smiles. The barest curve at the edge of his mouth. "You do not. You are better that, you have always been better then that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> This chapter comes with a bit of fan theory history that I thought up myself. Now we all know that the Jotuns once attacked Earth, I personally think it was to colonize it for our resources (perhaps due to a lack or shortage of their own), not to destroy it. We also all know that Asgard came to our defence and they fought, costing lives on both sides, which naturally leads to animosity between two groups. However, no matter how noble the Asgardians are, I don't think they would hate the Jotuns enough to label them the 'monsters parents tell their children about at night' just because they tried to conquer a realm that wasnt even their own. It just seems like there has to be more to it. So by combining a bit of mythology based history with comic based history this is what I have thought up.
> 
> During the Vanir-Aesir war, when Vanaheim was its own separate kingdom, the Vanir allied themselves with the Jotuns because the vanir wanted their physical strength and battle, ans the Jotuns wanted the Vanirs magickal abilities. This alliance was solidified by a large number of political marriages between the races (something that was less taboo back then). However after the Vanir lost the war and were assimilated into Asgardian rule, the alliance with Jotunheim was broken. this didn't stop many of these couples from remaining together on Jotunheim, because many of them had children together by now.
> 
> Fast forward to the Jotun invasion of Midgard. Laufey, the current king of Jotunheim saw these half Jotun children, and their Vanir mothers is both a bargaining chip and a potential problem. In a conflict with the Asgardians (and now the Vanir is well) their loyalty could be with Asgardians, which would lead to infighting among the ranks, and open rebellion if they defeated Asgard. So Laufey threatened to kill them all, on the hopes it would keep Asgard form interfering, and if it wasn't enough to keep them away, then it would still be a chance to remove a section of the population with questionable loyalty.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> I have also created a separate page for you, the reader to leave suggestions you would like to see in the story, both past, present and future tense. For further details please check out THE NORA SAGA FANS SUGGESTION PAGE. You can find it by going to my profile page or following this link.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3456788
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0556 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

He says I'm better then that, its a sentence that carries the weight of memories I don't have, of whoever the version he knows of me was. To me though, all it says is I'm not a racist, and he's glad. I can be satisfied with that. I am satisfied with that.

I have to be, because now that the situation has calmed down the guilt has kicked in like a mule, as well as the anxiety.  _What I said, it could have ruined everything!_ Almost calling him a monster, and then when he changed, the look in his eyes said that would have been the worst mistake I ever made. I want to apologize, both to him and myself. I'm not this kind of person, I shouldn't let myself even if I'm upset.

"I don't handle these things, these 'memories' well." I say that first so he doesn't misunderstand what I'm apologizing for. "I'm sorry." It only takes those words to start to fray my cord of control, and I make myself turn away because now its too quiet and too intense between us and I have no idea what to do next!

He decides for me, too kind and cruel as he is to just leave me alone with myself. The leather over his fingers is almost frigid as it caresses my skin when he catches my wrist and stills the escape attempt of my feet. I couldn't describe it with words if I tried, but something in his touch says he is afraid of what my retreat means.  _God, why are we both so broken?_

"I'm alright." I didn't intend to say it, I didn't want to speak at all, but the words wanted to exist and so they did. His response is to do more then hold my hand. I can feel his presence brush against the clothes on my back as he moves in and embraces me like I am made of fragile glass and the rocks are coming.

"No, you are not." And he might be right about that too.

 _Who am I kidding?_ "No, I'm not."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0600 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

It was foolish of me but it also filled me with such warmth. I keep reminding myself that she is not the woman she was, she cannot be if she cannot remember living that life. It doesn't stop me from forgetting that and expecting her to act like the woman I once knew from time to time. It leaves me disappointed with the results, but on occasion it pleases me instead.

She has lost much of her strength. Her body has become weak from having only the 'food' of Midgard to sustain it, and the interference of these mortals with the poison they masquerade before her as medicine. I tamp down that cresting irritation before it can reach the surface, this murderous intent, it has no place in my heart while she is in my arms.

But beyond the flesh that she lives in, her heart has become softer as well. Why would it not when she has lost all that made her reinforce it? This Nora, she is the embodiment of everything that was innocent and gentle in my Arnora. It is like a knife to me now that I am the one who makes her cry.

If I were a better man I would have left her in peace, I never would have taken her. But I have never been a selfless man. My nature is a covetous one, and she has always brought that part out of me with such strength. When I laid eyes on her as I walked unseen down the hallways of S.H.I.E.L.D, after centuries apart and the acceptance that she was lost to me forever in death. No, the concept that I had choices to choose between did not exist. For once the Norns saw fit to be kind. I had a chance to have her again, and I was going to take it. She was mine.

She is mine. Every part of her is mine. The breath that hitches in her chest only to exhale slowly as she feels my cheek rest against her crown is mine. The soft strands of her umber hair that tease my cheek are mine. The uniqueness of her green eyes, which always reminded me of nature itself and suited her so well, those are mine. All of her belongs to me, even the very shade of her goose bump decorated skin.

I banished the Jotun form beneath the Aesir one, but the cold of that form has not quite surrendered all of its bite to the warmth this form brings with it. She is sweet to not shift away or complain about this discomfort I can't help but cause her, but I'm not going to make her endure it now that I've noticed it.

It seems I surprised her a little when she felt the first brush of fur from the lining of the cloak I summoned about her shoulders.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0604 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I don't know which part surprised me more, the wave of comfortable warmth, the weight and softness of fur, or the tingle of energy as it filtered around me!

Feeling me react to the magick's presence Loki relaxes his already gentle grip and lets me step out from his hands so I can examine what he just did freely. He gave me a cloak. Its a heavy material that reminds me of plum velvet, lined with brown fur that would put Angora to shame, and floral embroidery to match the scent clinging to it.

Its a perfume of some kind, I can tell that much as the scent evolves in my senses. I know this because I went to a boutique once with Natasha. She was there for something particular but when she noticed my awe she had one of the ladies explain about the scent notes and blending. When we finally left, my bag was heavy with bodywashes and essential oils, and not long after that S.H.I.E.L.D's human resources department got involved and Clint showed up at my quarters on base and 'told' me to start practicing restraint or they would have to take my oils away.

That period of experimentation gave me some know how in recognizing scents. The top note is easy enough to recognize. Cinnamon isn't a spice that has been uncommon in my life given how much I enjoy cooking. Neither is the Cardamom that makes up one of the middle notes, along with the pine like scent of juniper berry, or the light floral of Rhododendrons, which I wouldn't know except I found them growing in a garden near my old place in New York. The cloves emerges cleanly as well because my nose recognizes them from cooking, even if as a base note it comes out last.

It reminds me of an oriental garden, and strangely enough as I draw the cloak around me like a cocoon while burying my face in the furs and test my lung capacity I also am filled with a sense of home. I may have said I don't handle memories well, those little snippets of things without context usually upset me, but this one is like a wave of reassurance.

 _I want to just stay like this._  The temptation is almost crushing, but I'm stronger then it is, and taking one more breath just to keep the scent in my lungs I lift my eyes to look at his patient ones. I don't even need to ask the question.

"Yes, this was yours." I have to look away again, but not because I feel tears. There's nothing prickling at my eyes, they are dry and my emotions are calm. Calmer then they should be I think since he just told me something enormous without telling me at all. He loved me so much that when he couldn't have me, he kept my things, he cherished them so much he didn't even let the scent of 'my' perfume fade.

I'm just trying not to let my heart think about that and let my mind think of the words I need now.

When I start speaking theres a message in my eyes as well, a plea for him to not interrupt me until I finish, a plea he sees and agrees to.

"My past terrifies me sometimes Loki, because most of it makes no sense, and for so long all of it seemed impossible but I am so tired of being scared and empty. Can we have this conversation already?"

He moved toward me when I uttered the word 'terrifies' and he stands before me. My palms resting in the cradle of his hands, but not held, as I turn my eyes up to meet his own turned down. "I spent centuries without you Arnora. and if you asked me I would spend just as many talking to you now just for the gift of your voice in my ears."

"I will answer your questions my love, if you will answer mine. Can you do that for me?" The affection in his eyes turns to solemn concern, as my eyes turn to the feel of rough leather brushing against the rough skin of my scar under his thumb.  _The scar, that's wrong, the 'dream' doesn't match the story._

He must have felt me shiver because his hands curl around mine now, instead of being content in cradling. Its his way of drawing my back and reminding me of the security and stability of his presence. What ever visions in my mind, they are not here and I am not alone with them.

"Can you share these demons with me?" he  _asks_ , really asks. Not a farce of a request but one I truly think he would accept the answer of 'I need more time' to. "Since I have shared mine?"

I don't though, I'm scared of them, and I don't know if I even want them, that hasn't changed, and thats why I'm ready, because I don't think that will ever change. Not in three years, or three thousand. I will always be on the fence about my past until the day I finally burn it down.

Watching him cringe softly at the mention of his own 'demons' makes me decide that today is as good as any day to light the match. "I'm the bravest person I know. Yes, I think I can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:  
> I created a little bit of Nine Realms Biology in this chapter. We all know Loki can change his appearance between Jotun and Asgardian, and while in the movies he only does it while being touched by a Jotun, or touching the Casket of Ancient Winters, both of those seem to be forced transformations rather than willing ones. I imagine now that he knows about his heritage though he can do it at will if he chooses, but I also don't think it is is instantaneous is turning a light switch on and off. Frost giants are able to freeze an entire Asgardian male into a block of ice, that has to be a very intense cold. So it doesn't make sense from a biological stand point for that to just snap on and off, so there must be a transition period with the temperatures, hence the part where even though his skin is pink again, he is still cold enough to give Nora head to toe goosebumps for a few minutes.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> I have also created a separate page for you, the reader to leave suggestions you would like to see in the story, both past, present and future tense. For further details please check out THE NORA SAGA FANS SUGGESTION PAGE. You can find it by going to my profile page or following this link.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3456788
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0611 HOURS 

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER 

SECURE OFFICE 

* * *

JASPER SITWELL 

* * *

The Centipede and Deathlok projects have produced some very useful results. One of these results is the backscatter x-ray eye implant. Agent Garrett had it developed to observe as well as control his operatives in the field, and it is also proving useful to us right now.

The son of Alexander Pierce has one. The former director of S.H.I.E.L.D wasn't willing to let his son give up his life as an agent do to something as simple as shrapnel to the eye. Agent Garret was more than happy to offer one of his technological advances is a gift, and well Alexander Jr. may not have gotten a choice in the matter but he has made the best of the situation.

I hear he wasn't pleased with his father making the decision for him, given that the device does come with some less than savory features, like the ability to release an electrical charge capable of killing him in an instant. However given that I'm his handler, and know full well that his father would kill me himself if I ever activated that failsafe without his approval he really has nothing about.  _All he has to do is continue to be loyal to the cause._

That being said the footage I sent to the councilman is interesting, and a little unsettling. Having a camera in his eye allows for constant visual observation, and the recording he is watching on his end of this video conference is a clip from just that. Its nothing very dramatic, but in the line of intelligence the quick passage near a reflective panel, and the use of some subtle sign language can send the same level of message is bombing Hiroshima.

So does the way the he dismisses me with his usual clipped politeness and the screen goes black.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0613 HOURS 

TRISKELION 

PRIVATE OFFICE 

* * *

ALEXANDER PIERCE SR 

* * *

Turning off the feed however doesn't drop the security protocols sealing off the room just yet. My discussion with Agent Sitwell is over, but my discussion with Agents Rumlow and Rollins have just begun. With my son and his team on a deep cover mission, command of the STRIKE unit at S.H.I.E.L.D had to go to someone else, and Agent Rumlow has fit well into the new role, even if his personality doesn't fit well into anything else.

"You want me to go get Junior, right boss?"

"Yes I do." We didn't authorize this extraction, but I trust my son's judgement, and given that the implant can not do audio transmissions there may be details about the situation in that bunker we are not aware of. He may be unorthodox but his results speak for themselves.

"And what about the Asgardians?" Now that is a good question.

"Its time we brought the woman back where she belongs. When you retrieve her, send her to Von Strucker, he's less likely to kill her on the operating table then Whitehall. As for this Loki fellow, I don't want to give him anymore of our agents, so avoid direct contact with him. Play this with patience, wait until she is separated from him before you take her, is that understood son?"

His frown says its disappointing even as his words say its agreeable. "Oh and Agent Rumlow?" I add one more detail after he and Rollins are already walking to the door to began preparations. "Why don't you take the Asset as well, if Loki does steal any of our agents, put them down with extreme prejudice." Now that order is agreed to with a smile.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0615 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

The conversation we both seemed eager for and dreaded did not start right away. Loki decided that it would be better if we sat for this discussion, and I agreed with him on that. It was pretty clear to both of this would be a long one, and I was pretty sure there would be at least a few moments in it where the topic might make me feel weak in my knees.

The desk turned out to be the destination again, which wasn't surprising really when you think about it. Besides it and the armchairs hugging the walls of this small room, it was a choice between that or the bed. I'm glad it was not the bed he choose, for obvious reasons that I'm sure he is aware of.

I suppose you could say Loki started the conversation. Though the way he did it was without words. After he saw me sit he pulled up a chair to join me on my side of the desk and then he held out his hand. It was a question, given the way sparkles of gleaming green light danced out of his palm.

He was asking if the magick would bother me.

It did before, not because it frightened me, but because it was overwhelming. He did these amazing things, things that defied what I thought were the laws of reality. It was a bit too much until I had time to get used to the idea. I've had that time. A moment ago I felt it tingle as it formed things around my skin, if I could handle that I can handle whatever he intends to do now.

His intentions turned out to be food. Or new food it seems. When he waved his hands and it appeared on the table my eyes searched out the remnants of the last meal, but even the very dinnerware it was on seems to have vanished, only the apples and the wine and glasses remain.

The new menu bears some similarities to the old one, in that none of it seems to be a dish large enough to count as an actual meal. Thinking back I realize that while he has made sure I have been fed well, nothing he fed me was really larger then an appetizer. I wonder if that means there is a limit to how much carry in whatever manner of invisible container he pulls these things from, or if its just a matter of personal preference. The last seems to make more sense then the first, given the enormity of this robe, I can see Loki is the kind to nibble at a treat in between pages.

There is a bowl of fried almonds sprinkled with sea salt and fresh sprigs of rosemary. A platter of rectangular breakfast pies that I can see bacon, asparagus spears, arugula flowers and sunny side up eggs on that fills the air above it with the scent of thyme.

Even a set of cups and a teapot that reminds me very much of something Moroccan. It strikes me as odd, the idea that a Norwegian god would drink tea, but then again Loki is not Norwegian at all, he and his people just visited there. When I think of it like that the tea is not so strange, and I actually like that we have that taste in common.

The sight and scent of it is lovely, but all I really have a craving for is some of that wine, and perhaps those apples.

Loki knows it too, I imagine he knew it even as he was summoning these treats for us but he did it anyways because he knows I'll want to eat eventually. For now he proves just how good he is at reading people by the way he places a cup of warm milk tea in my hands before he sits down at last.

"So where do you wish to start?" Silence is my answer, and continues to be my answer for the greater span of a minute as I let my grip tighten around that tea cup and look into it with false fascination. The memory of the pain and anger in his red eyes circles in my thoughts again, doing its damnedest to steal away my courage before I can even use it. I won't allow myself that failure. Lifting my head with a determined exhale I place the cup back on the table without letting it touch my lips. "I want you to tell me what they did to you, what cruelty could make something as lovely as an elf hate itself."


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> I have also created a separate page for you, the reader to leave suggestions you would like to see in the story, both past, present and future tense. For further details please check out THE NORA SAGA FANS SUGGESTION PAGE. You can find it by going to my profile page or following this link.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3456788
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER FORTY

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0620 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

I'd been trying to figure out what Loki was, ever since he showed me his form beneath his 'form'. The blue was unsettling, but only because I didn't expect it and the only other person I've heard of who could change colors could also change their size. The Hulk however was an accident, not a race, and certainly not a Viking God.

So I was thinking of my time with Erik instead. He loved to tell me those stories, he loved that I was willing to listen. Rainbow bridges, and magical animals, and the dangers of mistletoe. I listened to all of them with genuine interest. The Gods were real. Clint saw them in New Mexico. He may have been rather blasé about it, as if it was just another assignment, and aiming an arrow AT A GOD wasn't the strangest thing anybody could do, EVER, but being a Level Seven it might have been just another thing.

However at the P.E.G.A.S.U.S base I was a minuscule Level One in a sea of PHDs and master combatants. The most exciting thing that ever happened to me there was that I got to see the Tesseract, from about 90 feet away.

So stories about gods, magical creatures, and cosmic trees were terribly interesting to me, even the stories like a squirrel who had nothing better to do every day then instigate fights were interesting to me, just because it might be real.

So I scoured the mental catalog in my head, weeding out the unnecessary details and small talk of those conversations and try to condense only the facts, and make the best guesses I could about the things that were clearly missing.

Those conversations led me to a few possibilities, and I went with the one that seemed most appropriate. A conclusion that was clearly wrong by the shocked expression and chuckle that followed.

"You think I'am Elf, is that what the tales have turned me into?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0623 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

LOKI

* * *

That conclusion shocked me as much as it amused and intrigued me. If I had not been so thrown by it I may have even considered claiming it was true, it would be far more pleasing for her to think I was one of them, as a opposed to the Jotun I am. It would only take me a little effort to come up with a convincing tale to tell her, perhaps some exaggerated cruelty on Alfhiem under the rule of Frey. But that option has already passed me by, even before I ask the question.

"No." She admits with an embarrassed shake of her head. "That's not how story goes..." and I watch the embarrassment tinge with nervousness. "...That was just a guess."

Releasing a guilty sigh I offer her reassurance to drive away what I know has caused that nervousness.

"However distasteful I find my origin my love, uttering the word will not bring you harm."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0624 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

He's right. I knew what he might be. Some of it didn't seem right, Loki was tall but he wasn't that tall. However, in the stories there was one race that the Asgardians were at odds with more than any other. The giants. Its even what they called 'Loki' in half of his origin stories, but no one ever really seemed to agree on what he was.

"You're an ice giant."

"A  _frost_  giant." He corrects with a bit of a pained smile. "A Jotun."

A Jotun. Erik used that word before. He said it was the old Norse word for 'giants', all of them, not just a specific kind. He said they 'represented' the elemental forces of nature to the Vikings. It makes sense then that Loki is cold, and while he hasn't shown me, I know from my legs and his words that he can wield it even if he can't control it.

My hands had sort of drifted back to my lap after I freed the tea cup form their crushing hold, but now I lift one back into my view, slowing turning it over in examination.

"And can all Jotuns change their appearance? Like you do?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0625 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

LOKI

* * *

Taking her hand in mine I take her chin in the other and make her eyes lift to meet my serious one.

"You are not a Jotun my love, you are not one of those monster." She closes her eyes to hide herself from me, with a false smile to act as another wall between us.

"No, I suppose not. You could touch me if I was like you." The smile tugs wider before shrinking back to its original size as she shakes with a weighted laugh. "I always liked blue too."

"Arnora." She hears the worry in my voice, but in her bravery she shakes her head, as if I would let her ignore me while she speaks in tones like that. "Look at me now." The stern note in the last word cracks her stubborn shell, and even as the muscles in her jaw twitch with tension her eyes open, glistening in the dim light, and letting a tear run down her cheek.

She volunteers the answer without me having to ask the question. What makes her cry.

"You say you're a monster, then you say I'm not like you. You're wrong on both Loki. I don't need to be blue to be a monster, and you're not one just because you are."

"Arnora." The gleam in her eyes changes with just her name, and that anger is enough to still my tongue.

"No, don't. Everyone always says I'm sweet and kind and innocent, but I think they are wrong, I think you're wrong. I think you know better."

Her eyes looses some of their fire, as if the intensity is being drowned by those tears that start to brim again. "Sweet and kind and innocent people don't have 'problems' like I do."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0627 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

I told myself I wouldn't cry, but I'm not really listening to myself right now. I don't have the energy to devote to that at the moment. Right now I seem to be on a steady streak and I think I need to keep that momentum before I loose it.

"They don't have days they just cry, with no reason at all." I've lost track of how many days I've had like that. Where I just wake up with heartbreaking sadness, and I have no conscious idea why, or how to stop it.

"They don't go shopping and end the day with torn up dresses." That dress was lovely. I know I scared the clerk who showed it to me, I was being brave, I was finally going to wear a dress but I had no idea what would look good on me. She said she had some thoughts but after she brought it out Agent Sitwell had to pay for that dress, and her silence.

"They don't wake up in a room with a glass wall." That hospital room, in the depths of the base called the Sandbox, where they kept me, in my coma, safe from the men who killed my parents, who 'killed' me.

"They don't have to be reevaluated EVERY MONTH just to prove they can handle being around OTHER HUMAN BEINGS." It took me so long to get out of that room. I had to prove I could manage the presence of other people without an episode. I spent three and a half months shut in that room with my only contact with the rest of the world being through a barrier of glass!

"They don't wake up talking like something out of a Shakespearean play, like you, and have to be taught how to talk modern person." The first words I spoke, other then screaming, were to Clint, it was "Good morrow sir". I always knew that was strange, that i was the only one who talked like that, like so many other things about me. But I trusted my friends when they said it was nothing because I had no one else.

"They don't dream of golden rooms with a man carrying a golden sword. They don't dream of children covered in blood and fire!" Those sometimes marvelous, and other times horrifying dreams all shared the common feature that they were impossible. Or I was sure that they were once.

They don't dream of someone..." I can actually feel it hurt as I lift my arm, just like it did when 'his' knife split my skin from my muscles. I can't even look at it right know because I'm certain if I do I'll see it all over again, like looking at it will throw me right back into that horrible place. A place I can't confirm if its real or not and I'm afraid to find out as desperate as I am to know. "...carving a chunk of their skin and feeling happy about it. I scare myself Loki, I really do."

He'd honored my wishes and let me get that out, but even he had his limits, and I don't test them anymore. His arms feel so safe and unusually warm I don't want to leave them at all. "I don't want to be a monster."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> For those who may not know, when I mentioned "a squirrel who had nothing better to do every day then instigate fights" I am referring to Ratatoskr. He is a mythical red squirrel from Norse mythology who runs up and down branches of Yggdrasil. He tells slanderous gossip, provoking the eagle at the top and Nidhogg (a serpent that gnaws on the roots of Yggdrasil). I included that because while the MCU is a separate universe, its based on ours, and its been mildly implied that the MCU Vikings and our Vikings had the same myths, so Erik told Nora about an ancient shit talking squirrel.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> I have also created a separate page for you, the reader to leave suggestions you would like to see in the story, both past, present and future tense. For further details please check out THE NORA SAGA FANS SUGGESTION PAGE. You can find it by going to my profile page or following this link.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3456788
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0631 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

LOKI

* * *

Her confession left my heart swimming in a sea of sour pain. She saw pieces of her broken past and thought that these fragments made her a monster!

She is and has always been counted among rare company in my life. She made me want to be a better person. The only other person who made me feel that, without the chains of need for acknowledgement and acceptance, was Frigga.

Like my mother she had no scheming intentions behind her interactions with me, not like so many others at court, who smiled and saw me as a ladder to climb to further their stations in life. That's what caught my attention about her first. She was born with her feet already on the rungs of that ladder, and while she had every reason and excuse to climb higher I never missed the way she always seemed to look down instead.

She would have been perfectly happy staying right where she was, is long is the choice was hers. All she wanted, in the depths of her heart, was to be in control of her own life for once.

If she climbed that ladder she did it for the wishes of other's, people who wanted her gifts for the realm, and those selfish members of her family who climbed as well by clinging to her skirt. I found that unique about her, something so exotic in a mind that worked like that, among the sea of greed and selfish scheming ambition I encountered at every turn.

They made me want to be a better person, a person deserving of their attention.

I was past the innocence of childhood when I had her, but I wasn't thought of as a wicked trickster yet either. Losing her was only a piece of the puzzle of life events that lead me to being the man I am now, but it was the first wave of pebbles shifting beneath the base of the boulder that started it rolling down hill.

"I was born on the barren plateaus of Jotunheim." I start, smothering the infliction my emotions are trying so hard to stain my tone with. "I was born to be a prince of that realm, the first born of their king, Laufey, son of Jar."

Its a story I loathe, one that's wounds still sting keenly. Odins truth left deep wounds in my heart, ones that haven't even started clotting at the edges and are still hemorrhaging with sorrow and betrayal.  _I gave so much of my life and my efforts to please that man, all for a lie._

"I was abandoned on the altar of their greatest temple, a sacrifice meant to die of starvation and neglect because Laufey couldn't be bothered to kill me himself, his own son." That tale does not dry her tears as her eyes lift to mine, but the cause of them is different now.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0635 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

I can tell he doesn't like the pity, and I don't blame him for that because I never liked it either when it was me on the receiving end, but how do you hear a story like that, and not feel something? Its why I lifted my head from his shoulder and looked him in the eyes as he told me that tragedy, and its why when his other hand, the one not resting against my back, comes up to cradle my head, his thumb slipping into place behind the shell of my ear, I don't let myself pull away.

"I know monsters my dear." He confesses, his face coming so close I can almost feel his nose brush against mine, his breath teases my lips in what is the closest Loki has actually allowed himself to come to truly kissing me, despite the hunger I can see clearly in his eyes. "And whatever your life has made you do, you are one of the farthest things from it."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0636 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

LOKI

* * *

I had been considering it a worth while risk. More then six hundred years apart, with no less then an inch between us, with her looking at me like that. I wanted to kiss her, I even told myself the situation would allow it. Except she trembled as my breath rolled over her skin. "You are not a monster my love."

She still wasnt ready, not really. I may have her stubborn determination to cooperate, and her acceptance that her place is with me now, but even if she has reclaimed much of the progress she lost thanks to that attack, her fear is still a deep seated condition and there are still limits to how much contact she can endure. "if you know nothing else you must know that."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0637 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

I thought for sure he was going to go through with it, then the look in his eyes seemed to shake itself away even if his expression barely changed and he leaned back, letting his affection show instead by the way he tucks some of my hair back behind my ear.

That only makes the situation even more confusing and distressing because I think I'm disappointed. I think I wanted him to just do kiss me already, and let us move past that hurdle so I can stop building the situation up in my head.

Its why when his fingers cradle my chin again to still my head as I shake it in obvious distress I quickly focus on the other topic that bothers me just as much. "Did he really leave you to die?"

His face drifts into neutrality when he answers, and I can tell its somewhat forced for my benefit. His eyes close as a shield over his emotions as he nods his head in a yes. "Odds are Laufey was more a coward then even that." He offers before opening his eyes again, whatever fire he houses is successfully buried behind a practiced exterior. "History says he led the fight against Asgards armies, and was the very last to be defeated. He must have sent one of his men to do his dirty work for him."

"And your mother?" I expected that question to bother him too, even if I pushed ahead and asked it anyways. But at the word mother he actually shows a bit of a smile. "I know only one mother, and her name is Frigga." Though the smile does wane for the rest. "But as for the Jotun that bore me, I know not if she defended me. I only know that Laufey's queen was named Farbauti."

"Frigga" once again my memory dregs up Erik's voice, and that name is spoken in it, bringing up the image of a gentle smile and a crown of intricate blond curls. "That's a name I know, she's the Goddess of..."

He finishes for me, the smile returning and more in the form of a grin as I call his mother a goddess. "Child birth and prophesy, according to the myths at least, but to us she is the benevolent All-Mother and Queen of Asgard."  _So that means, if Loki calls Frigga his mother, then his 'brother' would be..._

"That's why you got angry when I mentioned Thor."  _...and his 'father' would be..._  "It was Odin, the one who rescued you?" The shield over his eyes fails, and the darkness shows in their depths before he dampens it for my sake.

"Yes, my clever girl, you're right. Odin did take me in is his own, an act which let me be alive today. But 'rescue' implies a certain altruism to his intentions that as it turns out he is incapable of."

That look of pain and self hatred is back in his eyes as he lets them fall to his hand. It makes the message pretty clear. I figured out most of it already, but this gives me a name to go with the crime.

"Tell me, what did he do to you?" Its oddly fitting to me really, because even though Erik always sung the praises of Odin, king of the Gods, I never could bring myself to have higher than a neutral view of him, and more often than not I couldn't even manage that! All we have is stories, but in our stories he takes the souls of men who already died, and brings them to his hall where he offers them food and wine, as if that's payment enough for the fact they must spend the rest of eternity fighting to the death every night for his entertainment, only to start over with the sun rise, until the day of the apocalypse where they will have the 'honor' of doing it one last time.

And I do acknowledge that stories evolve, and change, but if Loki and Thor are real, then the inspiration for Odin is real to, and if even a fraction of those stories remain true to that man I could never bring myself to endure him.

"Because I was only an infant, and too young to recall the truth Odin took the opportunity to raise me believing I was his own flesh and blood, he wasted no opportunity to instill the concepts of family loyalty and obligation in me, or to sow seeds of hatred toward the Jotun race. Thor, the golden son, even once stood beside me and vowed to kill every last Jotun, just as Odin had done, and he said nothing."

I don't how he says that with a straight face, but Loki is a master of illusions, and nothing proves that more to me then the fact he isn't crying right know. Even as I cradle his face in my hands and search his eyes for something, he keeps it hidden from me.

"I believe in judging people by what they do to me Loki, not what they've done to others or others says of them. I try very hard to stick to that rule and form my own opinions." I offer him in explanation before I get to my point. "But I never liked Odin and I think I hate him now, for you. I don't believe in them, but he is the worst kind of monster I've ever heard of."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> I took some minor creative liberty with Loki's biological family tree. Both the comics, and actual Norse mythology don't seem to give names for Laufey's parents, however in mythology I have heard the surname Laufeyjarson plenty of times, so because I don't think Jotuns are dropped off by a stork I decided to name Laufey's father Jar, hence Laufey Jarson (or son of Jar).


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> I have also created a separate page for you, the reader to leave suggestions you would like to see in the story, both past, present and future tense. For further details please check out THE NORA SAGA FANS SUGGESTION PAGE. You can find it by going to my profile page or following this link.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3456788
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER FORTY TWO 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0643 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

Never has a sentence excited me so much.  _But I never liked Odin..._ that sentence is a gift. I know she has no conscious memory of ever encountering Odin, she only knows him by the twisted tales passed down by men, but the chance that her dislike of that mythological figure might be because her subconscious recalls even a piece of his cruelty toward her, I see it as a blessing. If her subconscious remembers that then there has to be more rising from those depths, she just doesn't understand or recognize it.

The woman I want is not gone forever. The woman who makes my control falter. Her hands were soft, warm, and naked on my cheeks and moving away. It was the sound of her tremulous gasp that reminded me why I needed to keep it in the first place.

Her fingertips barely had the chance to abandon their touch when my own pressed into her palm as I caught her hand in mine, and pressed a kiss against the base of her thumb. She bore that touch in silence, but when skin shifted against skin it drew that lovely sound from her even as it shoved traitorous reason back in my mind.

I wanted to keep kissing her, I wanted to kiss more then the soft pad of her palm. If I let myself I could even interpret the flush of her cheeks, her wide eyes, and the shudder in each of her breaths as something far more agreeable and pleasent. I could let my own desires deceive me, and lose all the ground that I've gained.

Letting my eyes open as I draw one last breath, holding the moment before I exhale it into her skin and force my head to turn away before I give into its desire to just run my lips over her skin one more time.

The temptation is so heavy I move her hand farther away, guiding it back to her side in my quest to make my fingers release her's. Its to my pleasant surprise that she is the one who ends up tightening her grip around mine.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0646 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

He shocked me with that, I'm not going to lie. His hand claimed mine so quickly it almost felt aggressive in its strength, but then everything else was delicate. The press of his gloved fingertips into the heart of my palm and the listless way his thumb slid over my knuckle as it settled into plan. Then there was his lips. I've felt them before but this time was different, this time it was more than a peck, and there was no barrier, it gave me a chance to mark the different texture of our skin, and that was just before he moved them! I felt them slide open just a little, the motion making my nerves sing from that tiny motion, and the slight tugging tension as he tightened them back.

I never really understood the appeal, because I never could do it anyways. But that was just my hand and it made me see why a real kiss might mean so much to people. I know it meant a lot to him, I mean, his eyes when he looked at me, I don't think anyone's ever looked at me like that before.

Its why when his eyes filled with shame and he turned away before pushing my hand away that I squeezed it back to stop him. "Its okay."

This time I'm the one who succeeds in shocking him, a rarity between us. Feeling my fingers tighten his eyes eyes are drawn to them quickly, then drift back to mine slowly as I speak those words, a small pleased smirk tugging at his mouth as he feels me mimic the way he brushes my knuckles.

I can tell by his expression that my delivery in this display of affection is probably rusty, but that's not a surprise. When you can't manage a handshake for most of your life, you definitely don't learn how to do things like this. But he seems to do this a lot, and god knows I've seen it done in movies and on tv, and I must be doing something right, because he smiles and says "Thank you." as he gently rests his other hand over mine, before pulling both away.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0649 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

Terrance is a good man, that is if you keep being good separate from a being good soldier. This job demands that we do some pretty ugly things, with some pretty ugly people. It makes for limited company, but I trust him to have my back, no matter what crazy I lead us into. I wouldn't have made him my new second if that wasn't true.

Rumlow was a hard one to replace, though I don't miss that street thug personality. Terrance was brought up different, growing up as a military brat, even if his dad turned out to be alcoholic piece of shit, did make him more obedient and a hell of a lot less colorful than Brock.

Its why he doesn't even need me to look at him as I step into the room, he's already locking the door and taking up a defensive position until I finish having this conversation.

His training as a field medic is nice too, he's already got a syringe with something special prepped and waiting on a tray next to Agent Barton's bed.

 _God, he does look like shit._ And that's saying a lot because he actually looks better. He's got a serious case of five o'clock shadow going, and even though it's pretty clear someone cleaned up his face his hands and the rest of him are covered in a layer of dust and sweat, and blood still resides in the corners of his fingernails.

That is I why I don't feel bad about what I'm about to do to him. I don't care if I can still see that creepy light glowing past his eyelids. I met her once, and that woman about is pure as a disney princess, and it was no secret the kind of relationship she had with him. Mind control or not he's got it coming, a lot more then I can give him.

I ignore the syringe for now and the occupant in the other bed next to him. The stool screeches as I drag it across the floor, the wheels sticking from poor maintenance and lack of use. Not surprising since this place hasn't been used for at least a decade before we came in and gave it a purpose again.

"I know you're still in there you son of a bitch." I pause just for a second, looking for any sign of responsiveness, not that I expect it. Terrance takes pride in his work, these two are going be down for the count for a while, which really is exactly what I want.

"That's keeping you alive right now, because I really just want to kill you for what you did to that woman, but for some goddamned reason she 'still' loves you. So if you're in there at all, you better start fighting a hell of a lot harder for her because she is sinking fast, and I plan on getting her out of here."

I stop ignoring the syringe and reach behind me, finding and picking up the capped needle based on feel. It doesn't take me a second to uncap the syringe, taking extra care to avoid nicking myself because I know what's in it.

S.H.I.E.L.D exists to protect people, but sometimes protecting people means hurting others, and we know how to do that as well. Not every torture session needs blood to be spilled or blades. In truth, if you need that you aren't that good at your job. I personally prefer the tidiness of chemical torture, and so does Terrance. He is excellent with ratios and dilutions too. Which is good because platypus venom hurts like hell, and I want it to put Barton back in the driver seat, but not make him useless to me.

The needle meets no resistance as it slips in between the weave of his pants down into the flesh of his thigh, miming the position where his knife sunk into her. "We move in five hours, with or without you. Try not to scream."

Terrance will cover that risk, and dispose of the evidence of my tampering. I trust him to handle that part, because he's proven he deserves it, and because I have five hours until the men my bastard of a father is sure to send give me the distraction I need to make things happen.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0651 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

After that introduction to the finer points of touch, I was actually very glad for his foresight in the food, because I really needed something else to focus on now that we weren't practically in each others laps. It was also a huge relief that Loki didn't draw attention the fact I was avoiding that detail, even though I know he knew what I was doing.

I don't how I managed that to be honest. I know I've felt myself regaining the control Clint stole from me, but I think I've actually gained more ground in overcoming the phobia then I had even then. The only reason I can think for that, is that Loki is right. I do know him, and I knew him before I knew this fear. The idea that such a period in my life existed sounds wonderful.

"Your smile speaks for you my dear." Those words make my lift my wide eyes to his own which are crinkled with light amusement. "There is clearly a question there."

The surprise drifts back, and just lets the soft smile linger as I nod, because he is right. Even as I took a sip of the milk tea, familiar enough to recognize the leaves were some kind of green tea even if I couldn't narrow it down, I also noticed that the food seemed to fall into a category. Tea, eggs, light pastries, bacon.

"Yes, I was just wondering why it all seems like breakfast food." I expected it to go unanswered, I hadn't asked anyone yet, but no one had volunteered the time to me either, and I know enough about the way these things work to assume no one would, but Loki simply took a sip of his own tea and shrugged.

"Well the sun is rising here I believe. Would you prefer something else?" The blinking silence went on a blink too long apparently. I watch him still half stunned as he puts down his tea cup, and only snap out of it when I realize he is saying 'my' name.

"No, sorry, its fine, its just didn't think you would answer me." The smile returns as more of a smirk.

"Ahh, I see your time in S.H.I.E.L.D slipping through." Then the smirk vanishes into something more casual and relaxed. "I see no reason to keep the time of day from you, not when I've offered to answer much greater questions."

 _Right, he did._ I muse, trying to keep my mental embarrassment from becoming physical as well, with questionable success. I use the tea in my hand as a distraction. I once mused Clint's life was so interesting because he drew a bow on a God, but here I am, having milk tea with one, and honestly that is much more my style anyways.

"Why the tea?" His inquiring brow and the tilt of his head in his response, a question to my question. "Well, I mean, I don't imagine the Vikings drank a lot of tea, do you actually like it or did you just 'summon' it for my benefit?"

"True." He says with yet another one of those pleased twinkles in his eyes. "The Northmen had no such refinements, except in their dealings with traders from the East. However, I actually do enjoy tea myself, I picked up the taste for it in the time I spent with the Vanir."

"The Vanir?" I ask, a sensation somewhere between a twinge and a tingle dancing at the base of my skull. "Yes, the native inhabitants of realm called Vanaheim. The people whose magic and blood flow in you."


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER FORTY THREE 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0653 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I can't get the words out, but this is definitely a 'I'm sorry, say that again?' moment. We already stepped into I'm not supposed to be human territory a while ago, so it doesn't surprise me when he re-categorizes me is a 'Veneer', if anything I was sort of curious what he thought I was supposed to be if I wasn't human. The part that ties my tongue in my throat is the 'magick in my blood'.

"You think I have magick?!" That is something I was not prepared for, the concept I might have a 'super power'. I mean, sure I joked around with it before, covering the bitter heartache behind a layer of laughter that I used to have one, before head trauma took away all my S.H.I.E.L.D training but there is a huge difference between martial arts abilities and MAGICK! I'm honestly waiting for the joke to drop, but the nod he gives me tells me its not coming.

"You're serious aren't you?"

"Should I not be?" he asks with an odd combination of a frown and an amused smile.

"No you shouldn't be." And that makes the amusement leave for just the frown.

"I mean, magick, Loki, really?" I continue filling the silence; he seems content to let me. "I'm a Camdenite Maineiac, who works for an intelligence agency, that about is special as I get. Magick? If I had don't you think I would have noticed it? Felt it before this?"

"But you do feel it." He offers as a reply before he holds out his hands and soft shimmers rise from it, reminding me of sparks rising from a fire, but lacking the heat as his unenchanted hand lightly takes mine and encourages our palms to near each other. "I know you feel my energy, just as I know you've felt the Tesseract's."

At first I'd been a little startled by the way those sparks drifted THROUGH my hand, until I realized it didn't hurt, or do anything other then radiate soft dissipating warmth. But my surprise rose again when Loki said I felt the Tesseract.

"The Tesseract, who told you I touched that?" I wasn't allowed more then ten feet into the room they kept it in without an escort, and I was only let in there at all because Clint waved his authority around and made it happen.

"I did not say  _touched_  my dear, I said  _felt_." He clarifies with a soft smile, as he releases my wrist and lets that hand press his fingers to his temple. "Did you never wonder why they relocated you to that base, where they housed an Asgardian artifact?"

In truth, I didn't. When I heard I was being sent to P.E.G.A.S.U.S I was just so happy, because I would get to see me 'brother' again, even if I was terribly sad at the idea of leaving Steve behind in New York. It wasn't the first time S.H.I.E.L.D made me uproot my life and relocate, I'd done it once twice before. The first time when I left the sandbox and was sent to the live at Triskelion, and then again when I was told I was moving from there to the base in New York. And in New York I suppose you could say I had move 2.5, when I got to live in my own apartment! Leaving New York for Wyoming was just another relocation.

If I ever questioned why they would send an untrained Level One to a top secret research facility in the desert, all I had to to was look up to the man sitting in the rafters. Clint had the authority to make that reassignment happen, and it wasn't something out of the realm of impossibility to think he would.

However all of that was before an Asgardian Prince came into my life and told me I was his long lost love, all that was before I began to consider that maybe he was right. Maybe there was a reason after all. I started getting headaches after I arrived there, but I always assumed it was because of the dry desert air.

"You're saying I'm not supposed to know?" His answer to my question as he quells the sparks and rests both his hands back crossed in his lap as he leans back a bit in the chair. "Did you notice many of the others that arrived with suffering from headaches similar to yours?"

The answer of course is the one he already knows, none. I don't recall any of the others that started their assignment with me, because as a large organization it wouldn't make sense to relocate just one employee at a time. It was another one of those things I never even considered noticing, not until it was brought to my attention.

I want to go back to considering everything Loki says to being a potential lie, because I don't want to believe the people I loved and cared about and trusted have been the ones lying to me all along. But as much as I want that, I know how S.H.I.E.L.D functions because I am part of it, and what Loki says makes a lot of sense, perhaps more sense then my 'brother' missed me.

"No, I didn't." I admit, only now remembering the twinge headache I got when I sat on that scaffolding with Clint for the last time, the glow of the Tesseract lingering in the corner of my eye. The sudden hindsight makes me realize they always seemed to start or get worse the closer I got to the chamber itself. "God, how was I that stupid, that I never saw it?"

"You lived in a sea of practiced deceivers my dear, and forgive me for saying this." He offers me a subtle smile of appeasement as he gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. "But you are not one yourself."

That doesn't offend me, as much as it amuses me. I already knew that, any time I attempted secret keeping I always failed misery. The best I could do was to stubbornly refuse to speak at all to avoid spilling the beans, and that didn't always work either, because of things like threatening me with tickles or bribing me with a new experience.

The only time I succeeded was when I found out Steve's father had been Catholic, and I was NOT going to share Clint's colorful opinion of Catholics with Steve. I didn't like to think of him as Captain America, however there are certain sentences you do not repeat in front of Captain America and that was definitely one of them.

"So you're saying..." I force the question out, because I need to focus on the situation at hand and right know thinking of my friends, my old life, isn't helping me be strong. Not like it used to. "...'normal people' can't feel that?" It may be a question, but I barely leave enough silence to take a breath before I add "I'm gonna need something stronger than tea for this."

The interesting wine bottle appears next to us on the table, as well as the transmuted wine glasses from earlier, both summoned across the room with another wave of his hand and a shimmering light. That doesn't surprise me like it did once, but what I do seems to surprise him.

"No." He already had his hands in the process of filling a wine glass for me but before the first drop could be spilled I spoke that word, and now curiously he is letting the bottle settle back on its base. "Your wine is delicious, but I'm gonna need something different, something that actually lets me get drunk."

His disapproval of that idea is obvious in the way the warmth leaves his eyes and his jaw tenses a little, then his silence ends with a frustrated sigh, and an inclining nod.

"Alright. I will see what I can find among the mortals. Are you sure?"

When I made that request, I sort of assumed he would just summon something up like he did everything else, but it turns out I was wrong. Instead he actually plans to go out of the room to find it for me. And that makes me worried.

Its not for me that I'm worried. But Clint and Erik are outside this room. They're unconscious and helpless, because that's what I asked for, that how they're getting better. Its a paranoid fear, but that doesn't make it any less of one. Loki could hurt them if he isn't in this room with me. Its a stupid fear too though, because I know Loki could hurt them even if he stayed in this room forever. All he has to do is call a guard and give the order.

It doesn't do much to quell my concerns, but I keep telling myself Loki gave me their lives, and I've been nothing but cooperative since, so he has no real reason to.  _Be brave Arnora, dammit. You are supposed to be braver than this._

"Yes, I'm sure. Thank you." I offer back before I watch him stand, and then hold out his hand. For a fraction of a second it confuses me, then with a moment of understanding I let my hand rest in his and feel his lips press and retreat from my knuckles.

"I will return soon, I must check on the men, I will send your guard to keep you company until then." I hadn't even been holding my breath but the second that door closed I released it anyways. He was going to send in Duncan. Thank god, because I have a lot I need to ask him.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0702 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

After doing what I did in that thrown together hospital room, I am not going to lie and say I wasn't worried when the boss walked over to me with an angry scowl and a purpose to his steps. Even when it turned out he wasn't there to kill me on the spot I didn't have a chance to relax because of what he told me to do.

Part of me wanted to question it, like it was supposed to be a joke, but the other part of me knew well enough that doing that would be like putting my hand in a junkyard dog's mouth.

Still when he walks away I'm left blinking in stunned silence.  _The boss really wants me to get his lady drunk. I've never had that request before._

Not wanting to piss him of by delaying her intoxication I went to my supply cache and grabbed us each a bottle, all the while trying not to let the mental smirk find its way out as I muse what the hell she must have done to get him to agree to this.

All the desire to smirk vanishes after I knock for politeness sake before I walk in anyways, and see her holding her wrist, with blood seeping into the dingy cloth held under her fingers.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

FLASH BACK TO 0657 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

After Loki left I honestly didn't know what to do. All I really could do was look at my hand, and I didn't even want to do that. I couldn't make it move down and I couldn't take my eyes off it.  _I_   _had magick, have magick? How? And what kind?_

 _I've never felt any different than anyone else._ But even as I have that thought I know its stupid. Of course I never felt any different than anyone else. Humans as a race aren't hive minded. We're individuals, nobody feels like anyone else, and why would I think the way I felt was any different if I thought I was one.

That thought scares me.  _When did I seriously stop thinking I was human? When did I start seriously start considering the possibility that the very species I self identify is could be wrong?_

I am not ready for these thoughts. I'm really not. I can feel the reactions bubbling up again, and I know its not a panic attack, but the symptoms are damn close. It's why I seek out a distraction.

It doesn't take me long to find my kitten, and while initially I just intended to force my thoughts to something else, once they really notice Jareth I don't have to force them anymore, they fixate on that on their own, and with concern.

My kitten does not look well.

Thinking back the last time I really saw him was when Duncan bribed him out from under the bed with tuna. That was before I learned that not only had I not screwed up and gotten my friends killed, but I actually did something to help them. Then after that I have a vague awareness of him being near me while I slept but I've just had so much going on that I haven't been thinking about him.

I thought he was fine, just like he was last time I bothered to check. Now though, his fur has a dull greasy look to it instead of its normal well maintained state, and even though his eyes are closed I can see the redness and build up in them, mirrored by the dry residue in his nose as well.

What concerns me most as I kneel down next to the bed where he has created a nest for himself in the blankets is the the way I feel him shiver under my hand as I run it over his fur. Even his sleepily delivered meow as he tries to wake up for me comes out more like a stuffed up dry rattle.  _He hasn't looked this bad since Steve carried him in out of the winter streets of New York City_

"Oh baby." Picking him up carefully I create a cradle for him with the cloak given that my hand is already through the arm hole for it I simply grip the fur trimmed edge to keep him from sliding out of it, and rest him in the space between my chest in my arm. His weight, however slight is enough to make the fabric dip and create a sling for him. One he really seems to like.

He nuzzles and curls into the material, his little nails poking through as he flexes his paws in delight, and lets out a broken purr. Its a sound that makes me happy and sad all at the same time.

Looking around the room I try to find anything I can use to help him, preferably some clean cloth and some water. I find some cloth easily enough. There's a small stack of thin cotton towels sitting on one of the tables. The quest for water however is less successful. All I can find in that category is the milk-tea and Loki's wine, neither of which seem suitable to wash a sick kitten with.

I feel horrible that I didn't notice. I was too busy being caught up in my own problems. I know the guilt is misplaced, I know there is almost no way I wouldn't have focused on myself first, given everything that's been happening. But he is my kitten, my little boy, I'm supposed to take care of him and I wasn't even paying attention and I let him get sick.

I don't know what's wrong with him, all I can think is perhaps he ate something he shouldn't have. Between me, Loki, and Duncan he has been eating, so its not that he is starving. But there's been stretches I haven't had him in view and this place is old, full of old things. There's any number of things that could make him sick if he ingested them.

He was happy with the idea I was giving him attention, up until I restrained his face gently in my hand and started to wipe his eyes clean.

"Shhh baby, just a minute more." I coo despite his annoyed chirps and the way his paws try to push my hand away.

Then the banging came at the door and his paws weren't just pushing in annoyance. Startled he kicked out and tumbled out of my hands to the floor, his claws finding their way effortlessly through the weave and rack painfully across my arm.

I only had enough time to shove the sleeve of the cloak up to keep it from getting bloody, and clamping the cloth in my had over the bedding blood before I turned to see the increasingly displeased glower from Duncan.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0703 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

She took one look at me and started to turn around and move the other way, which was smart of her because the second I shut the door and freed my hands of those bottles I had every intention of using them to grab her.

By the look of it she even intends to crawl under the bed to get away from me, not that I give her the chance. She lets out a surprised gasp when I catch her by the forearm, a reaction I question because she had to know this was coming after she was dumb enough to do that. Its also a reaction I ignore hauling her back up to her feet I use her stumble to my advantage and push her into the wall by the head board, letting my mass pin her in place.

"Duncan?!" She uses that name out of habit, keeping her voice to a sharp hiss instead of a yell despite the fact I can tell she wants to. "What are you doing? Let me go!"

"Not until you tell me where it is." I growl back. I really don't have time for this shit, and I'm really pissed I even have to deal with it. I thought we were pasted this sort of stupidity, though I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised. I said it myself, this girl is cracking under the pressure. I mean it's bad enough that I decided to risk breaking cover to help her, a decision that could not only get me killed but all the men I command. The question makes her settle down a little even if it makes the confusion grow.

"Where what is?" And it makes me roll my eyes.

"The knife lil hen, where'd you put it?" For a moment her eyes widen in realization before they tighten back up in indignation and she starts to struggle again. Her struggles become verbal as well when I refuse to let her go.

"Dammit Duncan. You idiot, look at my arm! Do those really look like knife marks to you?!"

Then all the moving the cotton freed itself from its stuck position to her skin, revealing a nice crimson smear and about five very clean lines. The thing about suicide attempts is they aren't very clean. When you cut yourself it hurts. When it's someone else is doing it they don't feel it and it's really easy to make a clean cut, but when the blades is in your hand as it drags through your skin its a lot less neat because you naturally want to jerk away and end up making multiple attempts.

I could consider the fact that there are five beading lines of blood is those multiple attempts, but even then every one wouldn't be so clean.

"Its from my cat asshole. And if you throw me around one more time to get your way I'm gonna scream."

Its more the daring delivery of that statement that makes me let her go, and less the realization she wasn't trying to kill herself or the threat in those words. She is definitely growing a backbone, and I got to say, I like that. It will certainly make things easier when we escape this place if I don't have to deal with someone who is nothing but helplessness and fear.

"Now help me find my kitten. There is something wrong with him."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0705 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I saw his reaction when he came in, but I ignored it because I cared more about my cat then him, and I was in such a hurry I didn't even consider how the situation would have looked to Duncan. Then he had his hands on me and was pinning me to a wall.

The shock, and my deep seated desire to not get anyone killed helped me choke back the sound that wanted to get out because I could feel the callouses on his palms scrap into the hollow of my elbow as he adjusted his grip.

I didn't understand why he was so upset with me until he asked where I put the knife. I asked him to do something for me after he killed me, and now he walked in on me with bloody wrists. He thought I was going to do the job myself, I realize. Then the thought repeats in my head, toned with irritation. After everything he really thought I was trying to do the job myself.

Angry, despite my understanding of his actions I try to jerk my arm free so I can show him how wrong he is firsthand, but he views my squirming as an escape attempt so I can either not ask the question or call for help, he doesn't understand. So it leaves me with the only option of using words.

They succeed in making him realize the damage beneath the tacky crimson smear on my skin and he finally seems to realize he was wrong, which just leaves me with telling him what actually happened. That is enough to finally make him let me go.

It doesn't make me any less offended by his actions, but I still have the bigger concern of my kitten, and since he is in here he is going to help me.

I shed the cloak the rest of the way to keep Loki's gift from getting bloody, both to not be rude, but only to avoid the chance it gets anyone else in trouble too. Loki could just as likely come to another mistaken conclusion as well and now that I know who Duncan is he is also on the list of people I need to protect.

After Duncan stopped being a jerk, an attitude I begrudgingly admit he had the right to given that he thought I was trying to slit my wrists, a mistaken assumption, but a reasonable one given the last time we interacted.

I had him help me reach Jareth by lifting the end of the bed up so I didn't have to crawl. Not that I had to crawl much. Jareth was still upset and sick, but he was also my kitten. The closer my hand got to him the quieter his rattling growls of protest became, until they switched to broken meows and curious sniffing at the scent of my blood. He even took a few cautious crawling steps toward me before I gathered him up in my arms, using another cotton rag to create a barrier between my blood on both of us and the dress.

I am greeted by the sight of a package of wet wipes in a man's roughened hand by the time I finish standing back up. My eyes quickly travel the rest of the way up the arm past the half smirk to the pair of blue eyes.

"Peace offering, sorry for grabbing you like that." There's a pause of silence before I too offer him a small embarrassed smirk, and free my other arm to take the wipes from him.

"It's okay. I'm sorry for sort of threatening to get you killed. I didn't mean that, it's just been really crazy in here."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0707 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

_That's an understatement._ Part of me wants to brush off her apology, it's unnecessary after all. I've had much worse threats made on my life, and those people were all serious about taking it if I hadn't taken theirs first. I didn't even take her words seriously. She's too nice of a girl to do something like that on purpose, not that I'm gonna tell her that. It would only make her angry.

The other part of me doesn't miss the way the stress invades her expression during that last sentence. Her lips stiffen in a firm line and her eyes close as she tries to contain the emotions cresting within her. I decide to make it a little easier by offering her a distraction.

"Yeah, I got that part..." I let my jokingly delivered words trail off just long enough for me to gesture toward the bottles on the table. "...when the boss told me to get you drunk. Gotta say, I've never had that order before."


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0708 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

I told her a normal human being could not feel the energy of the Tesseract, but standing above the unconscious form of the man she holds so dear I can not help but smirk as I muse how that is not entirely true. I am sure Agent Barton felt it quite keenly as it drove him out and assumed control of his own limbs.

After I left that room, agreeing to provide her with what she wanted, no matter my personal distaste of the idea, I immediately started searching for the mortal I allowed the honor of her presence. It quickly became a longer task then I thought it would be, much to my annoyance. When a second scan of the faces in the main chamber still did not reveal his I resorted to stopping one of the gun wielding masses and asking.

Fortunately for the mortal, whether he realized it or not, he knew where the man I was looking for had disappeared to. It seems he decided to check on his own healer, the man I put in charge of watching over Barton and Dr. Selvig, keeping them sedated until their vital signs returned to something of a normal state.

I do admit that giving in to that request of her's has set us back a little, with the scientist unconscious the project is being overseen by someone less knowledgeable for now, but the prospect of what humoring her will gain me makes that annoyance much more tolerable.

After I found him walking out of the room, his steps rolling back a little as he noticed the intensity of my approach, a nervous reaction which I can not help but enjoy. I ordered him to find her a bottle of what they pass off as alcohol. The request was just as surprising to him as it had been to me, and I could see his instinct to question it, after all even though I am making it I view it as an act very out of character for me, but I also see him read my expression and think better of questioning me.

His ability to think once again proving that the responsibility I gave him was not misplaced.

I did not waste any time bothering to watch him do as he was told, the sight of him moving out of the corner of my eye as I turned and walked away was sufficient enough proof that he was going to do just that. I had other priorities on my mind now.

While I was away from her I intended to take advantage of the time and see how the construction of the portal apparatus was progressing. I still had a deadline to meet, and while her presence provided me with an unexpected advantage, one I intended to take as much time as necessary to achieve, I still can not delay things too much. Thano's may not truly care about the fate of Midgard one way or another, but even his patience has its limits. My pride my not like to admit it, but I fear the consequences of testing those limits.

It turned out for the best that I did. The man I put in charge, despite his assurance he held a Masters in Astrophysics, was apparently still less knowledgeable than the a Doctor in it. The classifications mortals gave to their education made little sense to me, and after I resisted my desire to just kill the man for his stupidity and correct his mistakes I found myself back in the medical ward.

I intended to give her time for those revelations to start settling themselves securely in her conscious before I burdened her with more. Awakening her is a delicate process, and must be handled with care. It give me an opportunity to do something I have yet to accomplish. Voicing my gratitude.

"Hello Agent Barton." The glowing shift beneath his eyelids is all the answer I need as I nudge the stool closer, ignoring the shrill way the relic cries. The way mortal objects decay so quickly has always been a bit of confusing thing to me. You would think as short as their lives are they would find a way to make their things last longer, instead they spend so much time replacing them.

"You know..." I start to admit as I lower myself to a sitting position, taking the time to adjust the tail of my coat to hang to the floor. "The gratitude of a God is very rare gift. You should be honored that I am giving to you. Not that you are smart enough to be of course."

The eyes shift once more behind the eyelids, this time with what looks like more intensity, which makes me smirk all the more.  _I_   _know he can hear me in there, an awake consciousness, trapped behind a parasitic one and sealed in a sedated shell of sinew and bone. I am glad he can, let his 'heart' torture him until his usefulness is through._

"I do appreciate how well you took care of her for me." A sound steals away my attention for a moment as one of the machines chime out an irritating note, getting the attention of the doctor who quickly shuts it off and replaces its cause; an empty bag, with one full of liquid. "All of S.H.I.E.L.D's efforts to keep her in the dark have worked marvelously in my favor."

It is not the only thing that has proven beneficial to my plans. They sent this man, their finest assassin to that base in the desert because they noticed the doctor's behavior seemed strange of late, though they never did realize that the cause of it was me. Influencing his thoughts to make my plans progress. If he hadn't arrived, I would have never been able to get her there as well. He looked at the doctor with a suspicious eye, but despite that, when the Astrophysicist suggested that an Asgardian artifact might respond to an Asgardian, Agent Barton was the one who passed that along to his superiors, along with his recommendation that it was 'worth a shot'.

"You even made sure she was available, waiting to be delivered right into my hands." Any levity in my tone fades in the next sentences replaced by a harsh edge as I lean in closer to hiss them in his ear. "The only hands she belongs in." Capping off some of the anger I lean back and rest my hands in my lap with the tug of a smirk threatening to form. "If I did not have plans that required the skills in your's, I'd take them off. But don't worry, I am a compassionate man, I think I will even let her kill you after she wakes up, I am sure you will both enjoy that very much."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0717 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I let out a hiss, pulling my arm back with a flinch and curling my hand into a ball as I try to shake away the pain. Then I hold it back out, ignoring the way Duncan's brow and lips are lifted in light amusement. "It stings."

We, well really I, ran into a small problem. The small life form now sleeping again in the curve of my other arm. I didn't want to disturb Jareth but I still had a bleeding arm to deal with, and then Duncan offered to do it for me.

He's been great about it, cleaning my wound without actually touching my skin. Not that he hasn't already on a couple occasions, but the consideration is really nice now. The alcohol in the wet wipes is not.

You'd think I'd be used to pain by now, but the truth is, when you're afraid to get close enough to be touched, it's really hard to also get hurt. If anything you go out of your way to avoid those situations just to avoid the possibility of it being so bad someone else has to help you fix it. I may have been stabbed but being hurt is all very new to me.

Instead of going right back to cleaning off the last bit of blood his hand does something else. The one not holding the bloody napkin wraps itself around the base of the bottle and holds it out so I can wrap my own around the next. "Take a drink lil hen. It's your turn anyway."

I let out a little huff of a smile at that before I do as he tells me, and this time the flinch and shake are in my head as the disgusting liquid once again burns on the way down.

I find it sort of amusing that he has dropped the accent when he is alone with me, but he still calls me that. I find it worrisome too, somewhere in the back of my head, because I know what it is. Its a term of endearment. Its the kind of thing that could get him in trouble if it ran into Loki's possessive nature. I want to tell him that, to tell him to stop so he keeps himself safe, but I know he is smarter then making that mistake in front of Loki.

I need to hang onto some faith that the people around me know what they're doing, because I know I don't have a clue anymore.

Its during these depressing musings I notice that he has finished cleaning up the scratches, wadding the cloth into a ball and setting it on the nightstand for now, before coming face to face with the next problem.

"Just go ahead and touch me." The permission seems to surprise him a little, before it impresses him.

"You sure?" I just nod and turn my wrist a little to give him better access, my actions making up for my silence. Taking a sealed sterile gauze pad out of his pocket he makes quick work of tearing the package open before situating over the scratches. Even though I look away I can feel his fingers rest lightly around my skin as he lets his thumb hold the fabric in place while until he pulls out a roll of tape from his pocket.

Confident the gauze won't shift he releases it just long enough to work the end of that tape off the roll and pulls out a stretch before I feel his fingertips against my skin again, this time smoothing and holding the tape over the gauze and securing it to my skin before he quickly wraps it in a circular motion around my wrist until he runs into the other end and smooths out that edge too.

He doesn't judge me when I take another drink at the end of all that to steady myself, but he does pick up his own bottle and join me in the process.

"So will you tell me about France now?" I ask, because I wanted something to talk about that wasn't connected to this insanity I found myself surrounded in, and I remembered him saying something about France. I love France, as much as someone who has only seen pictures of it can at least.

"Yeah, I can tell you." He says with a mixture of a amused huff and a sigh. "But I was there on contract, not a vacation. It wasn't a sightseeing venture lil hen, and it didn't end well."

I sort of remember him saying that too. He said something about almost losing an eye over there, which at first doesn't make sense because he clearly has both of them, and neither are a prosthetic because they both blink and move. Then I remember correctly he didn't actually say anything about losing the eyes, but almost losing sight in one of them.

"What happened?" I ask, expecting the tale he tells me to be at the very least interesting.

"Somebody ran their train into mine." I wasn't exactly expecting  _that_  interesting though.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0721 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

The concerns touching, and I do appreciate it, but at the same time the implant that I have no intention of telling her about has been bolted into my skull for almost six years now. It's all old news to me, and I'm used to this reaction, even if I only received it from a chosen few. It's not exactly dinner table conversation.

But because I told her that much that much I'm obligated to tell her more, I just need to censor the story a little. It's a good thing this machine in my head has no audio capabilities, if it did I would be on the receiving end of a hellish headache right now. That bald Honduran is a loyal bastard, but he is loyal to my father not me, which is where the bastard part comes in.

"It was a collection assignment. We had this weapons procurer by the name of Schmidt." I pause for a second to smirk at her reaction, she looks like she just smelled something disgusting, and having met the guy myself I can't say she is far off.

"Yeah I know, it's a terrible name, as bad as Adolf." Hydra may have been a secret organization back in WWII, but nowadays kids learn about it in elementary history class. The names Johann or Schmidt carry just as much bad karma as Adolf or Hitler. Nobody wants to be named after the people responsible for a genocide.

"I don't think his parents liked him much either cause they named him Guenter." Not that he shared that view. The guy was always too proud of himself when he had no reason to be. He was short, not very strong, unless you count the sharp edges of his face, had a terrible flattop haircut that he actually thought looked good, and a pair of glasses that looked like he stole them from Urkel. The only good thing about him was his cooperation deal with S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Anyways, he'd been operating out of the French Riviera since '97..."  _Which I would have much rather set the rendezvous at. That would have made it a vacation._  "...But the idiot let some competition sneak in on him over night, and we ended up having to smuggle him out to Luxemburg. Turns out while we were looking at one group he pissed off, we somehow missed the other one until we ended up in a nose to nose with a runaway train."

She is silent for a moment, just looking at me with a slight tug of her brow. She's probably in a combination of processing the horrible details of that story that I didn't mention, like how I was trapped in the wreckage, and had a beam slowly threatening to crush my head like a melon, while the corner of a window frame pushes its way farther and farther into my eye socket under the weight.

I was lucky I wasn't conscious for any of that. The pain would have been terrible, probably even worse because I know I would have struggled to free myself during the five hours they told me it took them to dig me out. I'm glad I got to skip all that, but I wish I was awake to fight them about the surgery. Dad made that decision for me, because it solved his rebellious son problem and threw all my good intentions out the window on the belief that I would eventually come around. While I did, because I don't want the last thing I feel to be electricity cooking my brain around the edges. I'd like a better death than that.

"Nothing good ever happens to us does it?" Is the question she chooses to break her silence and I'll be damned if that isn't a true statement. S.H.I.E.L.D has got an awesome retirement plan, thing is, even if you live long enough to take it, you never really leave the S.H.I.E.L.D life. All the skeletons, theirs and yours, shadow your steps till the day you die.

She knows the truth of that just as well as I do, my father told me the story about what happened to her parents, and to her after the doors shut to his office that day and I asked if she was the one. But that truth is depressing, and I can see it crushing her under its weight already, so I make an effort to lift it for a bit, because the heaviness is going to come back sooner or later.

"Well, I don't know" I start, letting the words catch her attention while I let my hand wrap itself back around the neck of my bottle and the other start screwing off the cap. "I got some awesome plastic surgery out of the deal." I finish with a smirk that turns into a full blown smile at her slightly shocked and dumbfounded expression, before I drown the chuckle in whiskey.

"Well you do look good." The attempt to drown the chuckle ends up failing pretty uncomfortably with that five word sentence, leaving me in a coughing fit as the booze found its way down the wrong pipe. It doesn't help that her eyes widen like saucers and the mortified way she claps her free hand over her mouth to close it until she gets some control back.

"Oh god, I really said that." She admits after a moment, one in which I finally get my throat back to a semi comfortable state despite the lingering burn.

"That you did lil hen. And don't worry, I know I'm a handsome specimen, but let's just keep that one between us?" I suggest before holding out my bottle, the base of it tilted toward her waiting for her's to meet it in a toast, which it does after she figures out I'm not offering her my bottle.

I had a thought the heaviness would come back sooner or later, but it looks like it's gonna be sooner, and it's gonna be from me despite my intentions. But I honestly don't know how much time I'm gonna have with her this time so it needs to get discussed.

"So I told you about some of my skeletons, its your turn to tell me what's the new addition to your closet now sweetheart."


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER FORTY SIX 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0726 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

He asked about skeletons in my closet and all I could do was lift my hand into my view. I looked at it, every tiny crisscrossing line of my skin, and the bumps of muscle and bone beneath, both of the back of my hand and when I turned it over my palm as well.

I closed it, curling my fingers in gently before taking a chance to study my knuckles as well, then I flung my hand out, opening those same fingers with a sharp shake but nothing happened, unless you count me feeling like a fool.

I was trying to do what Loki does, make some magick. He makes it seem so effortless. with him it's just there, filtering out of his skin in tiny glittering lights that circle his hand and make wonderful things happen. All he does is wave his hand around and it does what he wants. So I waved my hand, expecting, I don't know what, but something.

Nothing happened though, just like it was supposed to. Nothing happened because I don't really have magick, because I'm not really some alien from an ancient race we once called Gods. There's doubt in even that thought, because Loki has presented some rather convincing proof, but I crush it back this time.

I only ever wanted to be normal, just like everybody else. Most people want to be special, but I never did, I hated what made me special, and I even feared what made my friends special. Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, all I people I know, all people who are special, who have a unique skill that the others didn't; all people who used that skill and placed themselves in danger while doing it.

I never liked the idea of special, because to me it always seemed to come with the looming truth that someday, every special person will die, in a unique and terrible way.

"I'm a Conway" The statement brings an obvious look of question to his brows as he glances at me past another swig. "Elaine's not my real last name." This time his reaction to the sentence is to screw the cap back on his bottle, and let it rest at his side for the time being. He knows this conversation is going to be serious and is respecting that.

"The Conway's, or at least my group of them, we have this noble history in Camden, in Maine, where I was born. All the way back to the civil war and a man who wouldn't take down the flag when the confederates told him too."

I pause to chuckle before I continue the next part, the sound broken by the long seeded sense of shame I feel when I talk about this. I've always felt like somehow I was betraying them because I forgot. "They named TWO destroyers after that man, the USS Conway's, all because he wouldn't lower a flag. I've never lowered ANY flags and nobody's named anything after me."

I hate myself for saying that, and feeling it, but it doesn't change that this isn't the first time it's happened. I try to be better than giving into those feelings, but I have given up so much. More then my ancestor ever did. I gave it up in the sense that I had no choice, it was gone whether I wanted it to be or not so I chose to accept its absence and pretend I was okay with it. My family, my past, my skills, my memories, my LIFE.

Where was my great honor and recognition? Where was my praise? All I got was the mail and lunch order of my current S.O.

Nora Elaine never became the spy or agent S.H.I.E.L.D always hoped she would, but one thing she did learn from them was the art of a lying a smile.

I'm smiling now, but it's not that kind of smile. Its halfhearted at best but still exists because I shifted my attention to my kitten. Jareth was still sleeping in the curve of my arm, but now he is also purring, and nuzzling his sleepy head into my hand as a scratch his chin.

"I had to give it up when..." I close my eyes for a second at this part until the wet burn in them subsides a little. "My parents names are on the wall of valor, with mine." I end up choosing to say that instead, skipping the unpleasant details of the story and going straight to the end. Everyone connected to S.H.I.E.L.D knows what the wall of valor is, so he will understand.

I did get that recognition, but in truth they may as well have not given it to me at all because I couldn't even claim it. Seeing 'my' name on that wall was more of a slap than the salute. "When I woke up, I still had enemies out there so..."

"They gave you a new identity to protect you." He fills in the blank I leave for him. "They took my old one." I clarify with a nod, then reconsider my earlier decision to stop drinking so I don't lose control of my tongue again. Its a decision based on emotions and stressed, and I'm equal parts grateful to Duncan even though I am pissed when his hand reaches out stops me.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0734 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

Truth be told I already knew everything she just told me, and a lot more she hasn't. When we came back from that mission at the atomic power plant in Dounreay I thought the shy cute little half Asian looking guide in a sleek black business suit with a striped scarf tucked in her jacket was a breath of fresh air, and that's all I thought until noticed her gloves.

We came to a checkpoint before we reached the hall where my dad's office was, and she passed the fingerprint scan without taking her gloves off. She had fingerprints attached to the outside of her gloves. That should have been a huge red flag at a place like S.H.I.E.L.D, but she also passed the retinal scan, voice recognition, and tech scan to make sure she wasn't wearing any appearance altering devices. Then lastly when the guard ran her ID she came up in the clear and the doors opened for her.

This little Level One had some very special clearance, and I admit it did leave me suspiciously confused for a little bit, until I remembered something my dad said about a very 'lovely' project he had waiting for me when I got back. I thought his wording was strange but figured he meant a new weapons design or some better infiltration tech. He meant her.

Which was why I told Rumlow to back off when he started cornering her in the elevator. I didn't know what was special about her, but I figured it had to be something big and if she didn't kill Rumlow for messing with her then my father probably would.

After she left and dad secured the room, he filled all of us in. Being a secret organization within a secret organization there's not a lot of file keeping so about a third of the information I received was just him talking, another third was old records saved from Nazi WWII, and the last bit was research done by S.H.I.E.L.D. The pretty little half asian was a goddamned amnesiac 'Goddess'!

I always had a hard time wrapping my head around it, even when I did come to believe it. It was like I was a kid with his blocks, trying to shove the hexagon into the pentagon shaped hole. If I pushed hard enough I could make it fit, even if it got stuck and distorted the slot. I mean, I've seen the files and that old footage, so I know what she can do, but, the woman on those films couldn't possibly be the woman who cried and begged me to let her go.

Dad told me, because even though he was still healthy as he could be for a man his age, he was getting older and nobody's body lasts forever. She was just one of the many things I would need to know about when I took over both his positions after he died. His reason for telling me about her past made sense.

But her reason I am less clear on. "Why are you telling me this Nora?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0738 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

_Close your eyes, count back from ten, you can do this. Everything is gonna be fine. Yada yada yada._  I silently recite affirmation after affirmation as I force the truth out into the world before my indecision ties it back up inside of me.

"Because I don't know who I am anymore and I'm so so scared." I don't need my eyes open to notice all the light hearted humor in him vanish as the pity he feels for me burns it away. I know its pathetic but I don't care as I make the request anyway. "I just need you to tell me I'm really me, please just tell me who I am."

"Aw damn lil hen..." My eyes were still closed, up until I felt a pair of cotton covered fingers brush up my cheek to catch the tears, that made them open with a bit of a gasp. "Shh, don't cry hun. It's okay." He repeats, pushing the thin dry towel he snatched from nearby into my hands so I can dry my own tears myself. "He's got you all twisted around hasn't he?"

The words won't come out steady and I know it so I just nod instead with a faltering smile until I think I can conquer the stutter again. "I can't tell you who you are lil hen..." That sentence almost upsets me, except for the fact that he continues so quickly. "Cause I've only really met you here, but you're an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D lil hen, and you're one of us, now I don't know what makes you special to him, but you're special to us too lil hen."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0740 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

"Don't." The tone was all off. I said what I said to help her calm down and reassure her it was all going to be okay, but then I heard her voice and the tone was all off. Everything was all off from her expression to her body language. I don't know what I said but something in there set her off the wrong way.

"Nora, hey, calm down lil hen..." I tried to reach out and hold her hand again to give it a comforting squeeze, but she jerked it back with a bit of a flinch and glared at me, in an odd combination of anger and fear and sadness as she shook her head.

"No, don't you dare. Don't." And then the chant started. She just kept saying that word, as she shook her head and her shoulders shifted with the heaviness of her breath. Then she brought her fist up to her mouth, her skin not caught between her teeth but pressed against them in a nervous gesture before she uttered her last sentence; though calling it just a sentence is underestimating its intensity.

"Get out Duncan. I'd rather have Loki's company then yours right now. I don't care what you tell him as long as it doesn't get you killed, just please go away!" Its an order.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0743 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I've had things set me off before, but usually they were something physical, whether that be an object or an action. This time it fell into a third category, it was a word. That word, special.

I know Duncan didn't mean it. Most people like having that word associated with them, and while I never wanted it, if someone said it usually I was fine. I just smiled and brushed it off but not this time.

I asked him to tell me who I was, it's all I wanted him to do. Reaffirm my past for me so I stopped feeling like I was loosing my mind. Even if he lied to me at that point I don't think I would have cared because I just needed that right now, but instead he called me special. Special people always die in a unique and horrible fashion. He ruined everything with one word.

I could tell he wanted to stay and talk me back into my senses, but he left anyways. It was probably a combination of my earlier threat to scream, and Loki's ever present possessive jealousy that made him decide to retreat for his own safety.

The tears started falling again the second he slammed the door softly. He wants to help me but then I went and said that. God what is wrong with me?

 _No..._ I think that word.  _No, I can't do this._  I repeat in my head, forcing the refusal into existence, and forcing myself to listen to it. All I want to do is freak out and cry again, because that would be so easy right now. But I know I can't because Loki is going to come back eventually, and if he finds me crying he is going to want to know why, and my answer might not be good enough to keep him from coming to his own conclusion.

I may have just drove Duncan out of the room but I still care about him. He is kind to me, he cares back, he wants to help me, and most importantly he is a human being. I value life too much to ever want anything bad to happen to someone.

His fur tickles my nose as I bury my face into his side, drawing a curious crackling meow out of him as he starts to purr softly and readjust his position so he can see what I'm doing. I don't stop him, instead I steady my arms as I push them together to give him something to stand on. Then once he has turned around and is facing me he once again reaffirms exactly why I love him so much. He presses his forehead into mine, and leaves a love bite on the tip of my nose before he pulls back and looks at me expectantly.

His next sounds are annoyed and surprised, but they are also mixed with my dramatic chuckle as I shift my arms from being a bridge under his feet back to a cradle around him. Hugging him to my chest I press a kiss to the top of his head before he can voice that protest too. "I love you so much sweetie."

"That makes him a very lucky creature."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0747 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

I came in through the door, so I assumed she was at least aware of my approach, even if she did not look up and acknowledge it but apparently she was too focused on her thoughts to notice the sound of the hinges giving way. She drew a startled breath and her affectionate embrace of that creature turned to something uncomfortable enough for it to voice its protest.

"I am sorry." I offer as I step the rest of the way in the room and shut the door, listening for the click of the latch before I walk across the room. "I did not mean to startle you." She responds to those words, but the manner is silence. She just shakes her head softly from side to side.

"Your guard..." I venture again, curious by this reaction and hoping to draw actual words from her to explain it this time. "...told me there was something wrong with your pet?"

Again I receive a quiet nod, this time up and down, but still no words or her eyes meeting mine. "But there is also clearly something wrong with you."

It was not a question, but she still answered it with a sharp negating shake of her head, denying that obvious truth even as it made her shoulder tense and her body shudder.

"Arnora." Just the uttering of her name makes that shiver more pronounced and I can hear her knuckles crack under the strain of her fists.

"Please just fix my kitten and let me be for a minute Loki."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0749 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

_I can't right now._  I know I said we would talk about this, I know that's the deal I made with him but I just can't right now. I don't know if its the alcohol,  _it's probably the alcohol,_ or just the stress of this imprisonment finally coming to a head but I just cleared the top of another freak out and it will be so easy to rise back up to that level again.

I cannot do that, I can't, not around him. I need to be strong and steady and in control. Only my control's not a rope right now, it's a frayed strand of silk thread and I really want it to be a rope again.

"Nora." This time he uses my 'real' name and I don't know if it's because he understood what was going on in my head or it it was just coincidence, but it makes me happy that he choose to say that one. "I would be happy to help the creature, but I cannot unless you first let it go."

Of course I have to let him go, its logic plain and simple. But another thing is just as clear to me in the second Loki speaks those words. Its that I can't. I'm scared to let him go, beyond all logic and reason I am afraid if I let go of my cat for even a second, that I'll lose him forever. "No, just give me a stone then, I'll do it."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0751 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

Her refusal was a bit unexpected, and in equal measure an annoyance. When the mercenary said her animal was sick I knew exactly what caused its 'illness'. She must have absorbed more of the magic I infused the creature with while they slept together, the creature was going through withdrawals.

However, given her affection for the feline I had no real intentions of telling her I cast a spell on her pet that caused it to develop an addiction to magick. Even if she was in a calm state of mind that would only upset and in the state she is in now is anything but calm.

But actually, I just realized that despite how much it will inevitably upset her, I can use this development to my favor. "I do not think a healing stone is what he needs."

I watch as the realization settles. First there is a blank look of confusion as her mind processes those words, then the suspicion appears in her expression next followed by understanding, and a look of betrayal. The changing landscape of her features ends on tense anger.

"What did you do to my cat?!" It is not a particularly kind tactic, but I do want to push her a little. Her magick has always been so much more closely linked to her emotions than mine, if it is awakening at all then the best way for me to see it is to make those emotions stronger.

"Nothing that I can not fix." I offer in lieu of an apology as I once again hold out my hand to take the creature from her. I am not surprised when she pulls it tighter to her chest instead. The instinct to protect has always been very strong in her. It has gotten her into more trouble than anything else in her life.

"No." Though I must admit the outright refusal to obey me is a bit interesting. Any annoyance I might have felt is tempered by curiosity at where she is drawing this courage from, and by the fact that I really don't care one way or another what happens to her animal. "You don't get to touch him, not until you tell me what you did to him."

"I healed him." She asked so I answered, and in its own way, what I tell her is the truth. Seeing her surprised and offended doubt I continue. "I used a healing stone, something made with an Asgardian in mind, to set his broken bones and stop your tears." There is a bit of a bite to the last of those words, the hint that I too am offended by her lack of appreciation for what I have done for her. "But your cat is no Asgardian, the stones were made to heal far stronger and larger things."

"I have never healed a creature as small or mortal as he is with the stones." I continue, letting the edge in my voice soften even as her gaze remains sharp. "There was a risk that magick that strong would be addicting to such a little life form, but I thought your happiness was worth it." A truth to cover the truth her pet might be addicted to the stones as well. It is hard to say since it didn't have enough time for any withdrawals to start appearing before I filled it with my magick, which it hungers for now. "Was I wrong?"  _No one ever accused me of being beyond using guilt to get my way._

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0755 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

"Was I wrong?" He asks, those green eyes of his studying mine patiently as he waits for the answer he knows is coming. No, he isn't wrong, no matter how much I wish he was. I hate the idea that he did that to my kitten, and that he didn't tell me sooner but I know if he did I would have been just as upset, and that's why he didn't. I also know that if he had asked me first, and informed me of the potential consequences I might have told him to heal Jareth anyways.

Jareth, now finally able to squirm his way out of my weighted hold makes my answer pretty clear as he scrambles away and right into Loki's awaiting hands. His automatic acceptance of Loki now makes a lot more sense and makes me feel like a fool for not questioning it more earlier. I thought it was just because my kitten could tell he was a good person, what a stupid thought.

I can feel a slight shift of something in the air when he actually does it, an awareness channeled through the hairs on my arms more than my eyes because they are closed at the moment in defeat. That sensation only makes me close them even tighter so I don't end up losing another fight with myself.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0756 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

I can tell she is once again fighting to hold back a tide of frustrated tears as I finish sating the cat's addiction, carefully setting it back down at her side as its barely able to stay awake. Its reaction to my magick is truly reminiscent of an opiate, it's addiction now satisfied it is now relaxing into state of elevated bliss.

Now my concern returns completely to where it has truly been all along. With her eyes still closed I project my movements as I take my place on the bed with her, my goal is to comfort her, not give her a cause for alarm. "I am sorry."

Her reply is a mixture of amusement and a mildly surprised exhale before she shakes her head softly and lets her weight lean into me, trusting me to support her as her face finds just the right curve to settle in at the hollow of my throat, while her hand comes up and her fingers idly trace the pattern of my pauldron on the opposite shoulder.

"Tell me a story, Loki..." She whispers, and with her mouth so close to my skin I have to make an effort not to shiver at the warmth of her breath. "Something about us, something nice."

Her request is remarkably simple, and difficult all at once. There is so much I could choose from to tell her, and for a moment I just let one of my own hands toy idly with the ends of her hair as I rest a hand on her shoulder. In the end though I come to an obvious choice. If you are going to tell a story it's always best to start at the beginning.

"Shall I tell you how we met?"


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0758 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

Its strange how easy this was. A part of me still feels like I should be furious with him, and even entertains the dangerous idea that I should have slapped him for hurting my kitten. I could blame the alcohol for at least half of that idea. The thought that I might have the courage to do something that reckless is a nice thought, but even with a layer of intoxicated courage I'm not that foolish.

Instead, I'm resting my head on his shoulder as he plays with my hair and wait for him to tell me a story. Its like the feelings are still there, but they are trapped somehow behind a barrier. Its like the difference between the definition of a lion, and having the creature sitting in front of you.

I know exactly what this is, but knowing doesn't make me care any more either way. S.H.I.E.L.D was always concerned, given my conditions and my past or lack there of, that I ran the risk of slipping into depression. Not the occasional bouts of sadness, but real depression, the kind they make drugs to fix. It was one of the things my psychiatrist always looked out for in our sessions, but it never happened. I always made sure I kept enough happiness in my life to avoid it.

Its here now though, and in a strangely detached and clinical way I'm glad it is. This numbness might turn out to be very useful. There's a clarity to your mind when you don't have to really worry about the emotions affecting your decisions.

That clarity let me realize I owed Loki. Yes, he was the one whose actions made my kitten sick, but he also fixed him as soon as I made the request. Both of those things were done with my happiness in mind, and I have long since moved past the misconception that anything here is truly free.

But there is so little I can give. Whatever magic Loki thinks I have I still don't sense it in me, and all the possessions that I have here came from him first and are therefore not mine to give, so that left me with only one real option. The only thing I can give Loki is myself.

Its why I leaned into him, ignoring the logical urgings of my numb emotions and letting my body rest against his as my fingers danced over the fascinating pattern of his armor and my ears waited.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0759 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

There was nothing profound about the memory. The day I met her there was grand adventure or ceremony underway, and though I was in the company of my old companions it was simply to exercise our horses.

"At the edges of Asgard..." I start, feeling the slight shift in her shoulders as settles in turning her head a little so she can see me better but still recline comfortably into my side. "...there is a large wheat field near the sea, and in those waters there are a few scattered islands that despite being small are rather lovely." As my words continue to paint the picture of that place I find myself sinking into the image a bit as well. Those times were so simple and peaceful, though I didn't think of it that way at the time I now have hindsight to know better.

"We were running our horses. I was with Thor and his four companions, the warriors three and Lady Sif." The mention of those names does darken my mood a bit, but the details of my memory that precede my words calms it down. It was a very pleasant encounter.

"Fandral, the illegitimate son of a nobleman, and thrice removed cousin to Thor was as usual going out of his way to demonstrate his skills, and in this instance that skill was wrangling horses. Our destination was one of those small islands, but as we galloped through the wheat fields we came across a wandering unattended mare, or so we thought." I can't stop the smirk as I recall Fandral's panicked expression when he lost control of his mount and his seat on its back.

"In mid stride, some five yards from the mare Fandral's horse suddenly reared up, and as it stood on two legs it awkwardly tried to back up in defiance of his attempt to stay in the saddle long enough to control it. As he fell into the dirt and his stallion trotted nervously off, you rose from it."

She was quite a sight in that moment, all of us mildly shocked by the fiery spirited young maiden who rose from the grass with wheat flowers caught in her hair. She stumbled to a surprised stand and before her eyes could even identify us properly she called the fallen fool a 'tardy-gaited whoreson' seeming to intuit his bastard birth before she realized he wasn't alone.

The next shift in her surprised expression was tinged with embarrassment and fear. She fell back down into the dirt just as quickly as she rose from it, kneeling before her princes, and silently praying for our mercy because she realized she must have just insulted a member of the inner court.

"You too had been out exercising your own horse, and had decided to let it graze while you rested in the grass. An unusual choice, but not unheard of since most at least respect the summer crop enough to avoid trampling it. You were dressed in lavender, a simple pleated sleeveless dress with a banded sash and a pair of wrapped leather sandals along with the simple knots holding your disheveled hair. You were quite livid for almost being crushed under a set of hooves, even your horse was angry on your behalf. It had to be separated from Fandral's stallion, who it was quite determined to bite on your behalf." The next memory is a little less pleasant, and I recall being mildly upset that Fandral's overzealous need to impress his friends ended up getting someone hurt, even if it was a stranger.

"But as you dropped back into a bow out of respect for your prince's, you did so with a wince. You had twisted your ankle." Sif, who at that age had still not distinguished herself enough to earn her title as 'lady' may have been the first to move with intent to examine her injury but since she was not the first to voice it the honor went to Hogun. After Hogun collected both wayward horses and handed one off to both Sif and the much slimmer version of Volstagg he turned to Thor.

"You were so very worried you had offended us, you would of held that bow forever." Hogun recognized that. While she was content to let her humility beg for her so she didn't say anything to worsen her situation, Hogun took it on himself to speak for her, asking thor's permission to help her, if there was to be no punishment. Thor laughed, and said she was spared because she amused him, and while I know that was a little offensive she was to busy being relieved to care.

"I did that a lot, didn't I?" I am a bit surprised by the question. She had let me go on so long I thought I was only going to have a silent observer to this tale, not that I mind, I quite enjoy her curiosity. "Play in the fields."

"You enjoyed the peace and solitude of them, yes." She never said it out loud, at least that I can recall, but I always got the impression that while she enjoyed the beauty of the scenery, the other half of her reason for venturing into those fields as often as she did was just to escape the pressures of her life for a little while.

"Do you remember it?" I ask afterwards, because something in her question sounded more like she wanted a confirmation then mere curiosity. I can feel the slightest hint of a tremor in her muscles before I feel her nod a yes against my collar bone.

"I remember walking in the grass with myself."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0806 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I felt him move, his leathers shifting as he craned his neck to look down at me in curious questioning because of the wording I chose.

"My..." I pause to correct the word 'dreams' before I continue.  _This was so much easier when I just could make myself think about the patterns in the metal, why did I have to go and speak?_ "...memories are a can of slivers. They're jagged and tiny and always find a way under my skin."

Its actually nice when his cool fingers slide between the tiny hairs at the back of my neck and he lets his thumb trace some sort of pattern behind the shell of my ear. I should shudder away from his touch, I know I should, but the distraction is nice, and his hands are soft. I always hoped the first hands to touch me would be soft.

"I see myself..." There's a tiny chuckle at the accuracy of this part. "...in light purple in green fields of tall grass. I was a child and a woman at the same time. I was holding my own hand while I fell asleep and sang myself a lullaby."

He is so quiet for such a long time, that his silence actually makes me turn my head from his shoulder so I can actually look at his expression. Its strange because while it is gentle and calm, the happiness I see there is so intense its almost hard to hold his gaze. He must see it because some of that intensity vanishes, or is hidden back behind his walls.

"I've waited so long for some proof my efforts weren't in vain, that there was hope for your memories." Then his thumb drifts from behind my ear to the front of it, turning his light caress into more of a light hold, though that is as far as his show of force goes. "Your memories may be returning in pieces but I am sure, in time, they will be whole again. We will make them so."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0808 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

I almost gave into hope for a second when she said that. She remembers what I want her to, but she has misinterpreted that memory. Its such a grievous error its almost a crime, both to my plans, and the woman she was before she became this innocent creature resting in my arms.

It was not that she did not have innocence in her before, but she never had the chance to enjoy it for very long. Her life made her grow up far too quickly; she was a woman even while she was a child.

"I did not know you as a child." I tell her when I met her she had left that age for womanhood; not just because it is true, but perhaps if I am gentle and patient about it I can make her reevaluate her fragments and come to the right conclusion. I want to tell her so much but it is a truth she needs to learn from herself. "Were you lovely at that age too?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0809 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

Part of me wants to blush like a teenager at the part where he called me lovely, the compliment is a welcome one because right now I just want something to feel like happiness again. At the same time though its expected because why wouldn't he think I was lovely, if he loves me?

"I don't know." I want to be happy, but there is so much in the way. "I can never see my face in those dreams, I just know that little girl is a part of me." So much frustration, and pain, and foreign emotions so strong they make me ache in my need for answers. "I can't even remember what my own face as a child looked like, but that blond boy is crystal clear."


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER FORTY NINE 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0806 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

_Fuck, fuck, fuck! Come on you goddamned Catracho wannabe, check the god damned feed!_ I've been alternating between Morse code, ASL, and subtle military hand signs to keep anyone from picking up on the pattern my hands are moving in case they are watching me too closely. I've been doing it since I left her alone in that room.

I shouldn't have left her alone.  _Its the only thing I could do._  I know that thought is true but it doesn't make it any more right than the first. I should have stayed in there and talked her back into the calm instead of leaving and bringing the man responsible for her losing her mind right back to her to make her lose it more.

It wasn't the wrong thing to do, but if I stayed and did the right thing I probably would have gotten killed, and then I really couldn't do the right thing.  _Dammit Jasper come on, put down the snickerdoodle and pick up your fucking phone! The clock needs to change!_

This eyepiece is my only means of communicating with the outer world, but its absolutely useless to me if that world doesn't communicate back!

I have orders to protect her and get her out here, but if I don't have men on the outside waiting to cover my ass and pick us up we're never going to get away from this guy, and I really want to.

Its not just because that's the mission they gave me. I wasn't lying when I said I only met her here, and in that elevator, but the other part of that truth is I've been around her a lot more then she is aware. S.H.I.E.L.D is a high-tech ahead of the curve intelligence organization, and we have some really good masks.

My dad wanted someone on the inside to watch her. Sure, she had Hawkeye and the Widow keeping their eyes on her, and she was never actually without at least two agents trailing her. S.H.I.E.L.D wasn't stupid enough to really give an unidentified humanoid freedom. But dad wanted someone who knew S.H.I.E.L.D's best kept secret to keep an eye on her too. So I got my own photostatic veil and started cycling through different identities.

Being a civilian in NYC was nice, but I probably would have liked the mission more if the objective wasn't being a creepy stalker. Though the stalking thing did pay off once, for her.

A former boxer with literal brass knuckles who was supposed to be a crossed off Index candidate but was actually John Garrett's pet muscle until he traded him to doctor Whitehall in the hopes Whitehall could prolong his life, ended up in her path and he liked it way too much.

I knew he was in the area, I got told things like that being Pierce Senior's son, just in case things went sour for his mission I was there to help him get off the grid. Somehow his group ended up on the same freaking sidewalk as her while she was doing some late night errands. Long story short Creel must have bumped her just enough as she walked past to realize what she wasn't because the the next thing I see is a ten yard view of him taking out his own backup in an alley, and moving to close the gap between them so he could drag her back to his van.

Because he grabbed her by the purse first, she ended up assuming he meant to mug her, and never found out the guy who grabbed her had a superpower that let him feel that she was different too. She didn't find out because once I saw him being stupid I ran the rest of the way and kicked him in the back of the knee to bring him down before I put him in a headlock, giving her the chance to run away. Not gonna lie, using only my body to fight him hurt, but I wasn't about to hit him with something he would absorb. Not that it mattered too much because he just laid his hands on the brick building next to him.

I may have never been a fan of the Faustus machine, or that Bakshi fellow working under Whitehall, but thank god for that 'compliance will be rewarded' crap, because if his handler hadn't shown up and spoken that trigger phrase to the brainwashed bastard I would have walked away with more than the three broken ribs he gave me if I walked away at all. You can be as skilled as you want, but when your enemy can turn his body to stone, yours isn't going to be able to take his punches for very long.

Its not the only time I kept her safe from trouble, but that one was definitely the worst. When you're somebody's guardian ninja though, it's only a matter of time before you start caring about the person you're protecting.

I got pulled off that mission though because after that 'attempted mugging' Barton kept a closer eye on her, and he would have noticed me watching her eventually which was the opposite goal of my surveillance, and my three broken ribs that needed to be fixed anyways.

I didn't think I'd see her again, at least not for a very long time since after that I got orders to infiltrate MI-6 and strengthen our infection of that organization, but then I ended up here, and she was being carried past me covered in blood!

All I wanted to do since she got here was get her out, and then she drove me out of that room.  _Three fucking broken ribs, and an endless fucking sea of creeps and assholes who would have liked nothing better then to follow the pretty..._

Punching the filing cabinet was really not something I meant to do, but the twang echoing through the room and the slightly compacted pain traveling up from my knuckles is still real enough.  _Look at me now dad, the kid you adopted to take your place at the top of HYDRA, sitting on a bucket and beating up office furniture over a girl. I hope this makes you real damn proud!_

Taking a sniff I try to pinch away the frustration headache forming behind my eyes before I give up. Rising up quickly I actually end up knocking over the plastic bucket, adding more noise of a quieter variety to the list of things making people look at me, but I know longer care.  _Screw this._ She may not want my help, and they may not be giving it anymore, but this has always been my life. _I'm not new to the rodeo. I'll figure this one out too._

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0810 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

When the word blond preceded the word child I immediately knew I was going to be at a loss, and that has remained true. "I'm afraid I have no idea who that child is." I reply, and then wish I hadn't for I do not miss the frustrated spark of pain in her eyes that I can't give her the answers she needs.

So I try taking a different path. "The description is rather vague, and blond is a common color on Asgard. Can you tell me more?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0811 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

At first I was upset, then I was annoyed, but mostly with myself.  _Asgard, the golden realm, and I am really acting like he would be able to tell me something with just the description 'a blonde boy'._

I barely even flinch when after I let out frustrated huff and close my eyes I feel him thumb away a escaping tear. The dreams with this child have so far been terrifying, but not because of the child himself. I love this child in these dreams, I think because once I really did love this little blond boy, and that's painful in itself.

I can't stand, or I couldn't, the touch of other people's skin. That right there took away the possibility of having my own child some day, both in the natural way, the donor way or the adoption way. Even if it was a small person, it was still a person. What kind of life and pain would I be forcing on a child if I tried to raise one and had to tell him day in and out that he couldn't even touch his 'mother'? I wanted to be a mom so badly, but I could never be that selfish or cruel.

It almost seemed like the universe was playing a vicious trick on me, that the first of these dreams had me holding a child like that in my arms, and while I hate the universe for its cruelty I could never direct that displeasure at the child himself.

"His hair was curly." I start, trying to recall all the details about him I can, and sort out which ones really belong to him. In the first dream after all he grew out of a dressed up version of Jareth after all. "And light, like corn silk. He had sky blue eyes, and a round face with plump cheeks. He..." I pause again because I have to guess the next part. "...couldn't have been more than five or six." And I add the word "physically." because I remember that on Loki's side of the universe they don't age like we do.

"He's in a blue wool over tunic." Its been so long since I used those old fashioned terms for clothes, having been  _encouraged_  to say 'shirt' instead, but the terms are still familiar to me. "With green trim at the collar and hems, with some sort of knot work decorating it, and a pair of loose trousers, collected below his knees by some kind of wrappings. He's wearing little leather boots that stop under his ankles, but they look hand made and simple. There also worn and dirty?" The last part doesn't seem right the more I think about it. "No, they're covered in soot. He also has a small cloak, it looks like some kind pelt, from a sheep, and he has things hanging from his belt, a wooden spoon and an animal horn.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0815 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

Most of her description truthfully didn't provide me any real clues to this child's origins. While I knew her before it did not mean I knew every other person she ever encountered or cared for. However when she mentioned shoes stained by soot it was the first solid clue.

Asgard, even among the less wealthy, is a clean place. We may enjoy our fires, but the fuel for them leaves no soot behind since it is oil. And even on Vanaheim, which makes use of their trees they also take great care of their footwear to avoid tracking dirt into their homes, they would never let there boots be covered in soot.

It was the mention of the child carrying a horn on his belt that told me exactly what I needed to know. "Was it hollow by chance?" The lifting of her head and eyebrows is all the confirmation I need. "The child you see is very likely one of the Norsemen that once worshiped us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> About my interpretation of Carl Creel's abilities, yes, I know that he absorbs the properties of other elements, and its pretty established that these are supposed to be inanimate elements (I.E steel, wood, stone) however according to .COM "Carl "Crusher" Creel is a former boxer turned assassin with the ability to absorb the properties of anything he touches." and later Grant Ward says "but he enjoys the way it feels..." which means he physically can tell the difference. so in my mind, well he cannot or simply doesn't transform into different flesh because flesh is not very dense or protective compared to other things, he is still able to feel that Nora's flesh is different from human flesh and it caught his attention.
> 
> About the slang term used in reference to Jasper Sitwell in the beginning of this chapter. Catracho is a name for a male that has family from Honduras, OR born in Honduras. Just as a Catracha (with "a" at the end) is a female born in Honduras or with family from Honduras. For example, how Mexican Americans have their name which is Chicano, Hondurans have Catracho/Catracha. I choose this despite the fact that the MCU WIKIA TIMELINE has him born in Norfolk Virginia, the actor who plays him clearly has ancestry other than Caucasian. So in my interpretation of the MCU Jasper Sitwell is born to Honduran immigrants who settled in Norfolk Virginia.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER FIFTY 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0816 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

_Norsemen, Norwegians, Erik's people. Vikings._ The last word freezes my blood with fire. I'm dreaming of a viking child. I'm not doubting Loki's claim on that, because it makes sense. I knew Erik, we talked about the myths, and culture. I knew what a drinking horn was, I just didn't connect it in my head, but once I did all the other details fit. I dream of this child in old, hand spun and stitched clothing, too imperfect despite the care it was clearly made to ever have been manufactured in mass.

The Vikings, whose raiding stopped when they unintentionally brought the black plague back to Norway in 1349 AD, and whose culture was slowly assimilated over the next century by Christianity because all the prayers and sacrifices to the gods of Asgard didn't save them from the disease. With each new generation being raised more and more on the beliefs of the converted until the old ways died out except for old stories.

600 years ago I loved a little blond boy.  _No, no I can't..._  His hand drifts out of my hair idly as I press my hand to his chest and use it to push myself away from him. He doesn't stop me out of some sort of concerned confusion, and that gives me the chance to get back to my feet and walk away from him.

But after I start pacing he too rises and I only get to complete one oval before I feel him catch me by the shoulder as I try to make lap two and pull my back gently against his chest as he holds me still.

"I'm sorry if I upset you, we can talk of something else." I shouldn't laugh but the sound is already out, and I don't care. If he punishes for me it I will accept that, its the only thing I can do after all. But the amused frustration crested too quickly to stop and the words are true.

"Why Loki, is it going to bother me any less later?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0818 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

Her half hearted sarcastic laugh surprised me a little, but not as much as the courage following it pleased me. It is a very brave thing to choose to the unknown instead of the familiar path. I would not have been surprised if she chose to retreat back to a different topic until that truth had time to settle, I expected it in fact, but she surprises me so much.

She surprises me again when her hands secure mine and pull my arms tighter around her stomach, drawing a smile out of me that goes unseen by her as I shift closer and rest my cheek against the side of her face.

"I have never had to question the longevity of my life, so I cannot truly relate to what you must be feeling, but you are right, avoiding this will not make it any easier." Her grip hold me even tighter as she stands silently except for the shivering breath leaving her lungs as she lets her head droop. I want to offer her some comfort, to place myself like a shield between herself and the intensity of her emotions but I know she needs to feel them if she is ever going to move past them. So I simply press a light kiss to her shoulder instead to remind her of my support.

"Six hundred years..." The shuddering breath leaves her again, this time the end of it tinted with a chuckle as she leans her head back in what I imagine is an attempt to keep the tears from rolling out of her eyes. "...I...thats a lot to not remember, why don't I remember?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0819 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

"No one on Asgard has seen the sight of you in more than five and a half centuries. Not even the eyes of Heimdall could find you." Even though I don't actually hear it, I can 'hear' the silent anger and guilt in his tone. I can guess why. If we were in love, and no one saw any sign of me for half a millennium, they probably stopped looking after a while, and he probably did too. You can only hang onto hope for so long when there's nothing to say there is any. "We thought you were dead. If I knew you lived I would have never stopped searching."

"I know." Its a simple reply, but there's nothing more honest or profound than those two words. If he knew, if he had any thread of hope, I think he would have crossed the universe and torn down every wall of that nightmarish building I felt behind me in that bloody dream, and carried me back home to his world. He would have killed them all and saved me, if he knew.

"What took your memory from you is a mystery." His voice continues speaking in the same tone, not aware of the darker path that my thoughts are taking. "But...given your..."

This isn't the first time they've taken it. My wrist is decorated with a large unsightly scar, but it's not my only one. I have marks on my calf, the same one as the one from the dream. They never seemed like scars to me before though. I always thought they were just very strange freckles because they were just darker imperfect circles on my skin.

I may have misidentified them, but the other one I was never confused about. I saw it every time I looked over my shoulder into a mirror. A pale line climbing my spine. Clint said it was from back surgery, an injury from the explosion, and I didn't doubt him particularly at the time, I just always thought it was strange that it started so low and climbed so high, and that I could only bear the sight of it for so long.

"You think I was tortured don't you." The way I say it clearly catches him off guard because his response after a tick of silence is to unwrap his embracing arms and take my shoulder in one of his hands to turn me around so his other can hook my chin and lift my face so he can see the tears that aren't there. The micro expression of surprise tells me he really did think I was going to cry about that, and the next expression says he is very worried that I'm not.

"You seem so very calm about that."

"I'm not." I admit, prompting his brow to furrow a bit tighter as he lookers deeper for my deception, but I'm not trying to hide anything from him so the search is pointless. "This just...It's not the first time I've crossed paths with this. I always knew something horrible happened to me, I just never knew what."

I think I upset him again, because he draws me closer again, wrapping one arm almost protectively around my back as he presses another kiss against my forehead. "I will never let anything take you from me again." That promise pretty much confirms it. I've made him feel guilty again, I've made him blame himself. That wasn't what I wanted to do.

"I know." My voice is soft as I let my head rest against his shoulder again while my matching arm slips behind my back too so I can weave my fingers through his. "You'll keep me safe this time, I know you will." I think that made him happy because his hand gives mine a squeeze and I can feel his lips draw tight in a smile against my forehead before he tucks my head under his chin.

"Loki..." He seemed utterly content to just hold me, which given the number 500 I understand much more now than I did before, but while I'm getting used to the idea quicker then I thought I would, I'm still used to cherishing every second because life moves so quickly when you're human. I ask what's on my mind, drawing a 'hmm' out of him when I speak his name into his chest piece. "How did I get here, on earth?" The silence stretches and I can almost feel his frown before he answers

"You were banished."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> minor creative liberties taken here. In reality the viking age ended in 1066 AD but the Marvel movies have Odin bringing the Tesseract to earth and leaving it with mortal caretakers who build a temple decorated with viking art and even a viking grave in 1410 AD, and since the MCU is only a world based on ours but not actually ours I am going to go with the story that the viking age started some time before the Jotun invasion in 965 AD and continued after 1410 AD.
> 
> UPDATE FOR THE READERS:  
> The Photobucket galleries, as of 8/8/2015 at 9:00 pm Eastern Time (UTC-05:00), have been updated and now contain folders for chapters 50-56. I apologize for the delay and posting them and hope you check them out.


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE   
CHAPTER FIFTY ONE 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0824 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

Banished.  _A word, why is it always just 'a' word?_ Banished. I was banished? I was sent away from my home, and my family, my friends, my world, by force and threat. I was that kind of person.

I didn't even realize I was reacting until I felt the dull pressure of pain in my fingernails. I was practically trying to force them through the grove were the metal met leather, I was clinging to his chest piece that hard.  _This wasn't what I wanted to know, this was never what I wanted._

"No..." The first utterance of that word has his hand against small of my back pulling me tighter to him in anticipation of a retreat, whether its physical or mental. "...No, take it back." His first sentence tells me I'm not going to get my wish in either way, but that doesn't upset me as much as it should because I already knew that.

"More then once, more then ever, I wish I had a truth that would bring you a smile, not this sadness." At the word smile his left hand frees itself to lightly hook my chin and lift it up, before he releases it on the faith I won't let it drop back down, so he can thumb away the tears. "But you need to remember this, even if it hurts. I will be with you through it, I swear it is alright."

"No its not! " There is no mantra to keep it trapped. I'm not just weeping on the outside, I'm weeping inside too, and I'm screaming. I'm scared and confused. It feels like I'm standing in front of a mirror in a dark room, and I can see my silhouette in that mirror even though its dark, but I don't want to believe that reflection is me, I want it to be a lie dressed up in my skin. All Nora ever wanted was a simple, innocent life. There is no innocence in that shadow, I'm not sure there ever was. "You said I wasn't a bad person!I don't want to be a bad person!"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0826 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

I held her tighter, but even my strength could not stop her shaking, so I held her longer. Taking a distorted sort of pleasure that she held me back in her distress, but even my joy at that progress stopped being joy once it was filter through guilt and sadness.

She reminds me of a time when I was a kinder person, because that is when I knew her, before my heart grew so callous. That version of me would never be doing this to her, that version of me went out of his way to stop her tears if they ran, and if they did not he made sure they would not start. That version of me would kill the me I became for what I have planned. If in my youth I had the gift of foresight, something I lack even now, and I saw this future, I might have sealed away my magick all those centuries ago to stop myself from ever hurting her.

She is like the last light of a star that burned out ages ago, an echo of a glorious past and that makes me truly a monster because I will never let anything separate us again, no one shall have her before me, unless its death. She is mine.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0827 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

"You are not." I can hear the smile in his tone, but its not delivered in mockery. I get the impression its meant to be gentle and reassuring but it's also there because to him, someone who remembers 'me' the notion that I was a bad person is ridiculous. But to me its still pretty strong.

"I was banished Loki! Good people don't get banished!" I'm barely louder than a whisper when I say that, but it conveys the intensity clear enough. One of his hands still stays wrapped around my back, the palm resting against the opposite hip of his elbow, while the other hand moves up to the back of my head, where it meets my neck. His fingers are usually warm as they slide through my hair and encourage me to rest my cheek against him again so he can whisper in my ear.

"They do if they live under the rule of a bad king."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0828 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

The way her breath hitched tells me all I need to know. She truly had not considered that. She was fixated on the idea that her banishment reflected some wickedness in her, and never even thought it could be the other way around.

"You are not a villain in this story my love, you were the victim."  _My very clever victim._  My smile is genuine despite that it is a very loathsome name that rolls off her tongue in question, because she put it together so quickly. "Yes, it was Odin who banished you from Asgard. It is always Odin who wrongs us."

I do not need to hear her ask out loud what she did to know she will want to hear it, feeling her nod against my chest in acceptance of that fact as enough. Not telling her now would only be me acting against my own plans, and we have not yet reached the barrier of what must remain a secret.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0829 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

"You tried to do something forbidden." He starts with the obvious, but I don't mind because my attention is also on the warmth. Its not just his hands, I can feel it seeping through the leather of his arms and his armor. It confirms for me my suspicions, he is using magick, and its got to be just for my benefit. He is trying to drive out a chill that has nothing to do with the cold. He is probably doing this because he doesn't know what else to do.

"But there were no purer reasons than yours to try. You did it out of love." I don't question that detail like I have others because I know its true without question. Even if I don't know what kind of person I was before, I know the person Nora was. It was the only reason she ever did anything. Everything she did for others was because she loved them, even the things that seemed like she was doing for herself was for them too. If she was happy then they were happy with her. Nora was like a selfless child, I wonder if I was before too, when I was Arnora.

"I tried to make Odin see, we all did," The aggressive edge enters his tone, either at the name or the memory, but then a different kind of warmth seems to melt it back as he continues. "Even Frigga, my mother, the Queen pleaded your case."  _I had the the support of the queen?_  That's actually a huge relief, because how terrible could my crime have been if she was on my side. Maybe I was a good person after all.

"He gave you the 'choice' of renouncing that love forever, admitting what your heart drove you to was wrong, and swearing to never try again in exchange for staying in Asgard. He thought that was reasonable, but he did not know you at all. You made the choice I feared you would, and spat at his feet. You chose banishment over forsaking your heart." The silence settles, and grows, and with each passing second I can feel the tension in him grow too. It continues so long I lift my head in concerned curiosity. The movement makes a drop of water slide down a strand of my hair so it can caress my cheek. A tear from his eyes, one he isn't proud about shedding given the tick in his already clenched jaw.

 _I did it out of love, I chose to follow my heart, then forsake my love. I offended Odin, the king, with what this drove me to do, but I had the support of the queen, both she and Loki begged the king on my behalf, because I was acting out of love. An angry father, a compassionate mother, a prince, and me, a young woman._ I have a theory in my head, and a load of evidence large enough to give me a migraine. Its straight out of a Shakespearean tragedy.

"It was you." We were in love, but we weren't supposed to be. Maybe I wasn't royalty, Loki hasn't said I was. Maybe he was supposed to marry someone else, a political marriage is not unheard of for a prince. If I was give the choice of forsaking the one I loved, and never seeing them again in exchange for staying in the place I called home. Would I have done it? Would the woman I was have done it? I don't know. But Nora wouldn't have, Nora would have fought for that love, Nora would have made them banish her.

I would have made them banish me. I did make them. I choose to be separated from him by a galaxy and a couple centuries rather then pretend for a second that he wasn't who I wanted to spend my life with. The guilt hits me like a truck. It was my choice that separated us, made him think I was dead, made it possible for me to lose my memory, made him spend centuries alone mourning me.

 _Maybe I am a monster after all, but maybe I can make it up to him._  This time the contrast in our temperatures has me being the colder of the two, but as my hands slide higher between the inner and outer collar of his clothes I know he doesn't care, in fact the sight of his head tilting to the side and his eyes closing says he likes it. So does the shiver I feel through his lips when I touch them with mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE FOR THE READERS:  
> The Photobucket galleries, as of 8/8/2015 at 9:00 pm Eastern Time (UTC-05:00), have been updated and now contain folders for chapters 50-56. I apologize for the delay and posting them and hope you check them out.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0834 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

 

_I kissed him. I kissed Loki, and he let me. He kissed me back. Then he pushed me away, and he said I was wrong._

'I' left him, 'I' made a decision that hurt him, it hurt him so much. It hurt me too, but it hurt him more because he remembers it all, and that hurts me too. I, Nora, never wants to hurt anyone. She's sweet and kind and cares. Even the people she doesn't like she still cares about. But here I am, as Nora, trying to pass judgement on someone else I don't remember being, because they made a mistake that caused so much pain.

So I kissed him, even though I was afraid. I didn't think he would hurt me, but it didn't change the memory that the last time I tried to kiss him I only made him angry. This time was different. This time I was kissing him for him.

He has a foot of height on me so I had to lace my fingers together and stand on my toes to reach his lips, but I had his hands on my back to steady me and once he realized what I was doing he also leaned down to meet me.

I've heard a first kiss described a lot of ways, from awkward to electric, and while I couldn't possibly call his kiss awkward it didn't quite fit the description of electric either. I didn't think it was a bad kiss, quite the opposite, I just never knew my lips could feel so much.

They were warm, like the rest of him, but whatever magick he used to warm his body didn't seem to extend deeper than his skin, a detail I noticed when he pulled me tighter against him, both his arms locking around the small of my back, and making me gasp just enough to give him a chance to deepen the kiss.

He could have gone farther with it, part of me knew that even if I tried I wouldn't be able to fight him off me, but all he did was tug on my lower lip lightly a few times with his own. Then he was the one to retreat from me. The gentle tremor in his hands as they gripped my upper arms was a clear enough message why. If he didn't stop now he wouldn't.

His arms unwrapped from my back and his hands found my own, silently asking and accepting my also silent permission for him to hold them as he let his closed eyes focus on the floor while he settled back into himself again. And thats when he said it. "No."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0836 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

 

I said "no". I know why I said it, in the logical part of my mind, but in the other half I do not know why I said it at all. I had her body in my arms and her lips tracing over mine. I had her, but I ignored what I really wanted and pushed us apart then I said 'no'!

I do not know what thoughts in her head made her do that, but I do not care. I had been starving for her kiss for so long I forget I had been hungry for it, then I saw her here on Midgard and it is all I have wanted to do since, relearn the taste of her kiss.

But like anything that is starving, when you put what it desires in front of it again, it is ravenous. I had her kiss, but I wanted more. So much more. She is not ready though, no matter how much I want her to be, she is not ready for that.

So I set myself to cherish the kiss I did receive, and be patient. I had brought her this far, even if she was very likely to become angry with what I tell her next, I can bring her back to this point and beyond. I will live for thousands of years, I have no need to rush like a mortal, like every second I waste is a loss.

"No?" It makes the look in her eyes all the more sting, and I am almost certain if I did not have the foresight to hold her hands she might be backing away from me right now. As it is there is little I can do but trace patterns into her palms in what I hope is a comforting gesture.

"No. It was not me." The new expression that takes over her face makes it clear that a gentle caress is not going to be enough, and it is also no longer welcome. Though she does not put much effort into it, I can feel her hands try to tug their way out of my hold. "I was not why you were banished."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0838 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

 

"I ki-kissed you!" I'm so mad the stutter is back, but all I do is stand there with a set jaw and sad offended eyes.

"I know." He replies back, lifting one of my hands with his to brush a hair back in place, noticing but ignoring my almost angry flinch. "I should not have let you." It seems that reaction is enough to make him let go of the hand he lifted. "But you are beautiful Arnora, and I love you. Can you really fault a man for kissing his lost love back if she kisses him first?"I am not gonna cry. I won't. I'm angry, I should be able to stay angry.

"I did that because I thought I hurt you Loki, you said six hundred years, you said you thought I died, you said I chose to be banished!"

"You did." Both his hands are on my arms, but the grip is so light its almost not worthy of being called a grip. "You did. But it was the only choice you could make. I understood then, and I understand now. I never blamed you for leaving. I knew who you did it for."

"But I don't!" The beginnings of his smile drift back down into a neutral line, one that borders on sorrow, and that just makes me more upset because he looks like he is considering whether or not to to tell me. "If I wasn't banished because I loved you, than why? You have to tell me why?!" Screw this not crying idea, I don't care anymore, all I want is the answer and if I have to let angry tears burn my cheeks to get them then I will.

He starts with a sigh, and a consenting nod. "There was someone that you loved even more than you loved me." Even though he is telling me, I can tell its not easy for him. Whatever this secret is he carries it with weight. "Someone dearer and deeper in your heart then I could ever hope to be." But not enough weight. "But I cannot tell you this part."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0839 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

LOKI 

* * *

 

The silence in my ears tells me what my averted eyes do not. My decision is a shocking one. It seems out of character to me as well, but it is a necessity. "Forgive me, I know that seems cruel of me." The silence continues even as I meet the searching gaze of her unblinking eyes. "But this is the one truth you must remember for yourself. If I tell you it, you will not believe me, you will take my word with doubt and the doubt will only grow."

"No." Her eyes still search mine, even though something in them says she found at least a piece of what she was seeking. "No, you want me to know?" The edges of her lovely lips curl in hopefulness. "I know you want me to know."

This time I am the one to react. She sees something in my face, perhaps the deep seated desire that there was another way, so she lifts her warm tan hands to cup my cheeks. The gesture is so pleasant I cup her hands at the wrists as well to keep them there. "Just tell me, Loki please. You can't tell me this much and not tell me."

Those words make the schemer in me smile a little. A show of physical affection before issuing her request. It is rather basic as techniques go, but that does not make it a poor choice. I wonder more though if it was deliberate to take advantage of my desire for her, or if the gesture truly is as innocent as it seems. Either way it is still not enough to make me change my mind. "I am sorry."

She does not fight me as I move her hands away from my cheek and guide them back down to her sides. Her struggle still remains with words. "I don't want you to be sorry, I want you to tell me the name." And with those expressive two toned eyes "Just tell me the name please."

"I am sorry." This time my apology seems to exceed her limits, and the fire flashes in those eyes, but her frustration and anger comes too late, something she realizes when her jerking hand passes through mine with a glimmering light.

I have already created a projection of myself outside of this room and am almost finished manifesting into it by the time she started struggling, I simply save my hands for last. Leaving her no option but to voice her fury, and even though the door is metal, her fury still echoes through it. "No?! No! Don't go! Damn it Loki, don't do this to me again, get back here! TELL ME!" And her heartbreaking sense of betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:  
> Regarding Loki's teleportation, while they didn't explain it in the movies because of the rule "if you overly explain 'magick' it stops being 'magick'." this is my interpretation on how it works. Unlike 'nightcrawler's BAMF style teleportation which is limited by his ability to see his destination, Loki's teleportation has a few requirements because it isn't is instantaneous. 1st he needs a fixed destination, and it doesn't have to be somewhere he can physically see when he starts the process, though if he cant, prior knowledge of the location is necessary to prevent his destination from being in a wall. 2nd he marks this destination with an illusion of himself. 3rd he then either casts an additional illusion of himself or of invisibility on himself to make it appear like teleportation because 4th it is more like Star Trek still transportation, it takes a few seconds.
> 
> UPDATE FOR THE READERS:  
> The Photobucket galleries, as of 8/8/2015 at 9:00 pm Eastern Time (UTC-05:00), have been updated and now contain folders for chapters 50-56. I apologize for the delay and posting them and hope you check them out.


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0842 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I broke a chair on that door! That might have been impressive if the armchair hadn't been sitting unused and wearing away for the last fifty or so years, or if I hadn't sprained my damn wrist doing it. I hope I only sprained it, anyway.

I was so mad, I'm still so mad! I hate this kind of anger because I can't do anything with it. It only sits in me and festers, reminding me how friggin useless I am.

Loki says I'm a goddess from Asgard. Asgard, the place Thor came from. That blonde hammer wielder could probably pull this door right off its hinges with no problem. This door wouldn't stop him, it wouldn't even stop Clint or Natasha, but it stops me!

That bastard just left me hanging, but worse is the way he left. He just 'phased' out of the room, leaving me grasping at a substanceless image in the air, leaving me so frustrated and confused I started taking it out on the furniture. If I make enough noise maybe he would come back. That kind of logic doesn't even work for a child throwing a tantrum.

"Why wouldn't he tell me?" I'm not really asking anyone. I'm sitting in a 'W' with my un-sprained hand resting on the floor in front of me for support, and several broken sections of the chair around me. Leave it to my kitten though to give me an answer.

His little meow is plaintive and cautious, not that I'm surprised by that. If I was his size I'd be worried too while a giant was smashing my environment. But the giant is still his mama, so when I chuckle softly and hold out my hand it only takes him a moment to meow with more confidence and start rubbing his head against my hand.

His affection hurts a little, given what I did to my wrist, but I ignore it. Its not his fault and it's nothing compared to the pain I've already lived through. He doesn't even notice the way each stroke over his fur is weaker and slower then usually, he is just happy I'm not visibly mad anymore.

I'm still pretty furious, but I'm channeling that energy in a different direction now. He said 'this is the one truth you must remember for yourself'. So I'm gonna try and figure it out.

Up until now, he has answered all my questions, and the fact that he refers to it as 'the one' says whatever it is I don't know must be huge. So if its that big of a thing, then maybe I remembered a small piece of it already, I just don't know it.

I've been dreaming about Asgard, I know that much now. A stunning landscape rising out of a floating sea of clouds, with a castle in the middle of it all, made of towers rising higher and higher the further in they go. So tall you can see it from every corner of Asgard.

I lived in that land; I probably saw that castle everyday, maybe more. If I knew Loki I was in that palace at least a few times in my life. Would I know those halls if I went back to Asgard? Would Asgard know me?

The idea of seeing a place like that made me forget something very important for a moment, I wasn't welcome there anymore. I'd been banished I couldn't just go back they wouldn't let me. I'm sure they have defenses, and guards.

 _And a large african man in golden armor with a golden sword._  I remember that too. Though I don't think calling him African is right anymore, not now that I know he isn't from earth. Heimdall. I know more about him from Erik than I do Loki. Loki only mentioned him once, but Erik told me the myths, and with that knowledge in mind I know the Stoic Sentry standing in that golden domed room must be him.

He stood before me while others stood behind me, some I hated though I saw no faces in that dream. My accusers perhaps, maybe even Odin himself given how much I hated that group. I said I would never relent. It didn't make sense before, but in the context of banishment, its something I would have said as I stood on the bifrost.

 _I did stand on the bifrost!_  That realization mentally knocks the wind out of me for a second. I stood on the rainbow bridge. A thing straight out of mythology. I was standing on it waiting to be sent away. Waiting to be sent to earth, through a wormhole.  _Six hundred years ago I traveled through a wormhole and landed in viking Norway!_

I was in viking Norway. That strikes me too because it makes me realize something I never considered. I could be one of those myths Erik talked about. If I was walking around among these people, did I hide it, could I hide it? Or was I worshipped by them? Was I person who would have wanted to be worshipped by them? After all they sacrificed not just animals but people to their gods, would I have been okay with that? The woman I am now isn't.

No, I don't think I was. It doesn't fit. I remember a man covered in soot and wearing rough clothes. A blacksmith maybe. I remember a little boy. His clothes were cleaner, but still rough as well. If I was being worshipped as a goddess the people with me would be treated just as well. That boy would be wearing gold and silk, not sheeps skin and wool.

That child is important, to me at least. Loki doesn't seem to know anything about him, which I suppose makes sense. That boy was part of my life on earth, not on Asgard. I think that child was mine, not that I gave birth to him of course. I don't know how genetics work on Asgard, but I still don't see a brunette having a child that blonde, I think I adopted the boy.

In these visions I feel so much love for that child, enough that even now just thinking about it my eyes are wet with joy. I was a mother. I've always wanted to be a mother, and I was once. And I had a daughter.

The thought almost slips my notice, given the twinge of pain behind my eyes making me close my eyes. But after I rub it away I'm confused why my thoughts said daughter. I was thinking about a blonde that was very clearly an aqua green eyed 'boy'.

The eyes. Wait a minute. The boy's eyes weren't aqua green, they were blue. They only turned aqua green in the dream where he was burning, when his skin and hair turned brown.  _...No..._

Jareth lets out a surprised squeak as his half finished trip to sleep was disrupted by my sudden stand, but I barely notice. I need to find something with a reflection!  _Please, please, no, please let me be wrong!_

I practically rip the room apart until I find a mirror in the drawer of the desk, yanking on it so hard because it gets stuck half way that all its contents fly free. The glass of the mirror cracks the plastic frame but it still holds it together enough for me to look in it. But once I do I almost wish I didn't.

A little girl with chubby cheeks and chocolate curls.  _No...!_

The humming of a song, filled with love, but not the romantic kind, a lullaby.  _No...!_

Holding a child's hand as we played in the fields, in matching purple dresses.  _No, no it can't be!_

Watching her long lashes flutter in her sleep.  _No!_

Something deared and deeper in my heart then the man I love.  _WHY!?_

I dreamt of a little girl with hair and skin like mine, and I thought it was me. But my eyes are not aqua green. There not that shade, but Loki's are. I'm not the little girl, I was never the little girl, the little girl is mine.

My daughter! His daughter! Our daughter! I'd choose banishment a thousand time over before I ever choose to give up my child willingly. I was banished because I had the child of a prince. Odin sent me away from my own daughter?!

That's not even the part that bothers me the most. It only pisses me off, but the other part has me screaming.

I'm a mother. I have a child out there. I forgot my baby, and god help me I want to forget again that I forgot her!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:  
> For those of you who check out the galleries I post for the individual chapters on PHOTOBUCKET you might have noticed I haven't added the last few. My apologies for that, but my schedule has been very busy lately and I haven't had time to dig through the mess of my idea folder and find the ones that inspired or match those details. Hopefully I will be able to catch those up soon. Thank you for your understanding.
> 
> UPDATE FOR THE READERS:  
> The Photobucket galleries, as of 8/8/2015 at 9:00 pm Eastern Time (UTC-05:00), have been updated and now contain folders for chapters 50-56. I apologize for the delay and posting them and hope you check them out.


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0850 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

It was supposed to happen at 1200 hours, instead I'm making it happen at 0900 because I know the girl isn't gonna last that long and Terrance is right, I'm a goddamned idiot.

I didn't ask his opinion, and I certainly didn't ask for his consent even though my decision would just as likely put his life in danger as it did mine. Instead I told him to wake the bastard up, and when I tried to talk myself out of it I just grabbed my own syringe and headed to the cabinet to do it myself.

He tried to stop me and I split my knuckle on his jaw. I punched him, sending him stumbling back and using the end of the doctor's bed to steady himself. I didn't even mean to do it, and it surprised me just as much as it did him. Nothing about the way he grabbed my arm was threatening, it wasn't even meant to be a decent hold, it was just to get my attention. It didn't warrant the hit at all, and I'm usually a lot more restrained than that.

But I already did, so I shook it off and used his disorientation to my advantage, filling the syringe and pressing down on the plunger after the needle broke skin.

I didn't hang around after that. I simply grabbed some tape for my hand, told him if Barton's eyes were still technicolor to put him down before he got all the way up, and at the last inch of the door frame I finally said, "Sorry mate."

If it worked the way I wanted it to it was still going to take a little bit of time, and I needed to get my head back on. I've been doing this since before I was teenager. Training, missions, the looming truth of my friggin mortality. Dad was the director of S.H.I.E.L.D, and even though I was adopted, I was his son. I was always going to be a field agent, I was always going to do the dirty work, even long before I found out just who's dirty work I was really doing.

I was young and stupid back then, but I was proud. I was gonna protect my country, I was gonna help 'my dad' protect my country, I was gonna make him so proud. I was gonna remind him everyday how much the orphan he took in appreciated it. I was trained and I still didn't see what a snake he was under the skin. My eye almost itches I'm so pissed about that mistake!

I don't take pride in my work anymore, I just do it so I don't take the bullets either. But I could take some pride in this. I'm always going to pull the short stick, at this point it's just something I accept. No matter how things end for me they are never gonna end the way I want, that option fell off the table years ago. But occasionally I get to do something good.

I'm gonna help a woman escape an abusive dangerous man, and maybe if I do this right I can keep her from falling right back into 'their' hands.  _God, I wish I could suck it up and tell someone about HYDRA, but I really don't want to die, and I can't out run the push of a button._

But at least occasionally something goes right. Like right now, and my ears hearing the words. "I'm telling you it's probably nothing."

I'd been sitting on one of the stacks of supply crates, smoking one of my Winterman cigarillos while I busied myself with cleaning some of my guns. I personally prefer the size of a regular cigar, but that is a luxury that requires time, and with my life these little half corona's are small enough I can actually finish them. I'd really been hoping that I would have enough time this time too, since it's one of the few things I get to enjoy in my life, but the clock never stops moving. Oh well, there are other things I can do that I like.

The boy literally choked on his breath so hard he ended up having a coughing fit when my voice passed his shoulder as I asked what exactly 'nothing' was. I expected it might startle him or make him nervous, but the pants shittingly terrified reaction made more sense once I saw his face. There's a lot of faces down here, but I saw his a few times in the same ten foot radius of the dumb ass Rising Tide hacker we killed earlier. I bet they knew each other, and I bet even more that he saw me drag his buddy into that room.

 _This is actually perfect._ Hackers are extremely useful, but they can be really annoying too. Its more common then its not that you find they come with a sort of arrogance. They believe they're better than us because all we are is hired muscle. Our skill set is pulling triggers and punching things, we aren't smart like they are, and generally they take advantage of the 'don't touch the tech team' rule.

There's not that rule here though, and it saves me the time necessary to intimidate this one into good behavior. If anything the rising count of homicide down here has him too well behaved, because the boy can't even remember how to speak.

Though he does stammer a little when I get tired of waiting and just turn the screen around, much to the amusement of the other merc, who'd been talking to me. "So we got a camera doon, ye wanna teel me wa?"

The question was for the hacker, but the fact that the other man answers really doesn't bother me as long is it gets answered. "He said it's just a glitch."

"A glitch?!" This time my first response is for the fellow hired gun and its delivered with a cocked eyebrow and a snicker, but the second has no humor. "Ur ye serioosly gonna gang wi' 'it's a glitch'?"

"I-I...There was s-so-some kids pl-playing w-w-with a b-baseball. I t-think it..." I never really did like stuttering, and I've already had my fill of it on this assignment just from the lady alone, so I really have no patience for his excuses and finish it for him.

"Hit th' camera, yeah, Ah got 'at. Ye ken whit else Ah ken, yer gonna gang up an' fix it." What I get from both of them is also really annoying. I expected as much from a scared hacker, but I expected better from a merc. "Oh I'm sorry, did ye miss th' memo waur terrorists aren't th' only ones fa use bairns. We got alien tech swatched frae S.H.I.E.L.D doon haur, sae tak' yer team an' thes divit upstairs an' check."

"Why's it gotta be my team?" The 'you're not the boss of me' reply is almost cute if it wasn't so disappointingly predictable. When Barton started collecting men he wasn't exactly picky it seems, and he called more than just my group, which is how I ended up working with this piece of shit.

Despite the fact I've been stubbornly pushing away the opinion I have on this guy I know exactly who and what he is. Malone, Bruno, 'Needle', Rollins, Schmidt, and Van-slyke all used to be soldiers until they got 'accused' of torturing a Canadian nun in Iraq. The case was dropped though since none of the witnesses stayed healthy enough to actually attend the trial. It still ended their military career though so they sought out different ways to fill their pockets.

"Cause Ah got a hen tae guard an' ye got urban experience. Sae act loch yer balls aren't jist fur shaw an' earn yer goddamn pay. heel fur aw Ah caur ye can tak' mah men tay, it's nae loch they got anythin' better tae dae."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0856 HOURS 

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER 

LOCATION UNKNOWN 

* * *

CLINT 

* * *

I don't know what the deal with this Merc is, other than he has the swagger of agency training behind him. That alone makes me lock down my desire to beat him to death for what he put in my veins! I know I was chemically unconscious during that time, but I'm honestly surprised I didn't scream anyways. I know he didn't use much, but the closest comparison I can give it is the time I got hit by some burning shrapnel and that at least was confined to one spot, not my whole body.

It still hurts honestly, especially when I knocked out the blonde. I knew he was with the brown haired bastard, but I didn't really care. I didn't have a lock on his loyalties so I wasn't going to risk him alerting anyone, and I didn't like him anyways, because after Nora left the room he made a comment that really pissed me off. He commented to himself it was marvelous how well she passed for human, and he wondered if it was some sort of psychical adaptation.

He isn't the only one who thought of that. When I got her as an assignment I got the old files too. Footage, notes, pictures, all of it. HYDRA saw her as a means to make themselves better. The Red Skull thought they could use her to make another version of the super soldier serum, and they cut her to pieces trying to find a way to do that. They failed in the end, but not before they let her bleed too much on the table and put her in a coma that lasted the better part of a century.

That was the only reason they stopped experimenting on her, because she was their only 'specimen'. But now she is my little sister, so the reason I didn't straight up kill that blonde prick for thinking like a Nazi is that he's with the merc who wants to help her as much as I do.

The plan seems pretty basic, but I don't think he really had time for complicated. He didn't even really have time to tell me what the plan was, not that I need him to. As an Agent I'm trained to adapt and stay ahead of the situation so when I see at least two teams head up the tunnel that leads to the surface I know he is dividing the forces down here so I have less bodies to go through if things go wrong.

The thing is, I'm not sure things are going right. I know  _Loki_  isn't in the room with her because I heard her screaming for him to come back, something I don't even want to think about. But I can't find him out here either, and not knowing where that son of a bitch is at could be very bad for all of us!

Its a concern I don't have time for though when I, along with the rest of the men down here hear the distinct sound of a breaching round. He must have sent those teams up to meet an ambush. I'd be comforted by that except for the fact that I know it's not S.H.I.E.L.D coming down those tunnels with their guns drawn.

That breaching round was fired from a shotgun. That's a SWAT team tactic at best, S.H.I.E.L.D has more effective ways to take out a door. Which means I really need to get her out of here even quicker.

I shot Nick Fury in the chest. Even if he lives through it like I'm sure he will, as far as S.H.I.E.L.D is going to be concerned I'm still compromised. I'm sure they will put my face on the most wanted list, with a kill on sight order. They probably put her's on there too, after they saw what I did to her house. To her.

That bastard set me loose on her. I stabbed her, I was tearing off her damned clothes! I saw it all, I felt it all, I could taste her blood on my tongue, and all I could do was scream in my head. I saw the fear fill her eyes as I betrayed every ounce of her trust.

But then I heard the love in her voice, as she washed my  _face_ , as she told me she didn't blame me, and she still cared about me. As she told me to save myself. She was sacrificing herself for me, the man who stabbed her, and almost raped her!

Its why I have no more patience with whatever his plan is. By the time I reach her hall the chaos has reached there too. The scientists are in a panic, and the few mercenaries who aren't trying to keep the local law enforcement at bay are trying to calm them down and get the Tesseract machine on a truck. I vaguely see two of them carrying the still sedated body of Dr. Selvig out of sight but there is still no Loki and still no time.

Instead of waiting for him to get rid of the twenty year old who decided to take on guard duty I just step up behind the kid, half hearing him make a comment about how he suddenly doesn't have his scottish accent anymore, right before I take advantage of the distraction to put the kid in a choke hold and sheath my knife in the hypoglossal canal, severing his spinal column from his skull and ignoring my new 'friend's glare of disapproval.

"We don't have time for this. Alice is waiting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is confused about the name Alice in the last line, Clint is in fact referring to Nora. when Nora first woke up in S.H.I.E.L.D custody they told her she could not go back to using her old name because it wasnt safe, so for a while she went by Alice. A name picked for her by Clint after he saw one of the nurses reading Alice in Wonderland. Later her name was changed to the one she uses now and became Nora.
> 
> DUNCAN SCOTTISH ACCENT TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> So we got a camera down, you wanna tell me why?  
> So we got a camera doon, ye wanna teel me wa?
> 
> Are you seriously gonna go with 'it's a glitch'?  
> Ur ye serioosly gonna gang wi' 'it's a glitch'?
> 
> Hit the camera, yeah, I got that. You know what else I know, you're gonna go up and fix it.  
> Hit th' camera, yeah, Ah got 'at. Ye ken whit else Ah ken, yer gonna gang up an' fix it.
> 
> Oh I'm sorry, did you miss the memo were terrorists aren't the only ones who use children. We got alien tech stolen from S.H.I.E.L.D down here, so take your team and this idiot upstairs and check.  
> Oh I'm sorry, did ye miss th' memo waur terrorists aren't th' only ones fa use bairns. We got alien tech swatched frae S.H.I.E.L.D doon haur, sae tak' yer team an' thes divit upstairs an' check.
> 
> Cause I got a woman to guard and you got urban experience. So act like your balls aren't just for show and earn your goddamn pay. Hell for all I care you can take my men too, it's not like they got anything better to do.  
> Cause Ah got a hen tae guard an' ye got urban experience. Sae act loch yer balls aren't jist fur shaw an' earn yer goddamn pay. heel fur aw Ah caur ye can tak' mah men tay, its nae loch they got anythin' better tae dae.
> 
> UPDATE FOR THE READERS:  
> The Photobucket galleries, as of 8/8/2015 at 9:00 pm Eastern Time (UTC-05:00), have been updated and now contain folders for chapters 50-56. I apologize for the delay and posting them and hope you check them out.


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0856 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

_A mother!_ The first thing I break is the mirror, I break it more. It shimmers like falling stars as the shards recoil from their impact with the wall. _I was a mother!_

I always wanted to be a mother. I wanted it so much that I would subject myself to heartache willingly. I would watch them play in the parks, mothers, or fathers, and their giggling little children. I watched them because as much as it hurt that I knew I would most likely never have one of my own, just being near them was a joy in itself.

Occasionally I even got lucky, and had a tiny taste. A ball would roll my way, and for one brief second I could have a child smile at  _me_ , before they ran back to their games. It was enough.

 _I am a mother! I_ thought I was saddened by children because it was just a part of a woman's life that would always be out of my reach. I never realized it wasn't a concept my heart wanted to hold, but a person.  _Please god still let me be a mother!_

I've been awake for three years, and they never told me! S.H.I.E.L.D said I was one of theirs until I fell into a coma January 2007, and even though there didn't seem to be any hope they still kept me on life support for the next two and a half years until the unexpected happened and I woke up empty and afraid.

That was my reality, and I never questioned it.  _That story, that lie._ They lied to me. I don't remember all the details yet, but the fact that I remember Asgard doesn't matter. I could forgive them for never telling me that. I could see why they wouldn't. But this, Clint and Natasha, they are S.H.I.E.L.D, but I thought they were family too, and they knew the whole time!

Coulson and Sitwell, Fury and Hill, everyone I ever met in those walls, they must have all known. Fitz-Simmons, Ward and Garrett, 'Duncan' and his father.  _Steve._

 _Oh god Steve knew!_ He's the poster child of everything S.H.I.E.L.D stands for, if I wasn't human they wouldn't have let him within a mile of me without telling him that. He knew. That hurts the most  _because I..._  if the thought finishes I don't hear it because I'm screaming on every side. In my head, out my mouth, and under my skin!

I threw the pillow, I grabbed the blankets and yanked so hard the mattress came with them half way off the bed! I tore the map off the back of the wall, not paying any attention to the fact I left bloody streaks as I skinned my knuckles on the cement wall! I shattered two green glassed bankers lamps, denting the base of one as I swung it at the wall like a hammer so hard the vibrations made me drop it!

I found another mirror I hadn't seen in my search, hanging obviously in the open on a pillar! I put my blood on that too as I greeted my reflection with a fist!

I grabbed the chairs, one after another, breaking them on the ground, on the desk, against the exposed side of the bedframe, around the pillars! I didn't care! I just wanted there to be enough pain in my flesh to drown out the pain in my heart and to stop my thoughts!

I didn't want it, any of it, and that only made the pain worse! How could I not I want to remember her?! I have a daughter out there somewhere, I spent three years not even knowing I should be looking for her, I don't even remember her name! But knowing about her now hurts so much I just want to go back to not knowing, just to make the pain go away! I want to go back to before I wanted to kill those lying bastards for keeping that from me!

I do. They kept me in the dark about my baby. They might even have her, and be hurting her! I don't care if they didn't! They decided I didn't need to know, and held their tongue every time they saw me watch families with longing eyes!

I couldn't make my chaos loud enough, loud enough to drown out theirs! Even as I demolished the room around me with screaming sobs and cracking wood I could hear the sounds of fighting happening outside my door. I didn't even care enough to want to know what or who the fight was about. They let me forget my baby and even the blood coating the broken piece of a plate in my fist isn't going to distract me from making them pay for that as I watch the door crack open!

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0857 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

CLINT

* * *

_Seven fucking millimeters! Jesus Christ!_ My reflexes saw it before his eyes did, and by the time I caught the wrist that I knew right away was her's, she was seven milimeters away from stabbing a chuck of ceramic something into his right eye!

We were honestly both stuck on stunned for a second, him probably because a coin toss of fate almost had a beautiful little woman stab him in the face, and me because I know the beautiful woman who almost stabbed him in the face, or I thought I did once.

The face is right, so is the feel of her skin under mine, a knowledge I got in a way I never would have wanted, but the hate in those eyes, and the anger in those screams aren't from my little sister. It's like she has buried herself so deep I can't see her, if she is still in there at all!

But I don't have time to dig her out. So instead I apologize in my head, and squeeze so hard on her wrist I feel the bones pop as she cries out and the weapon clatters to the floor. I keep apologizing as I wrench her arm behind her back and between her shoulder blades, while my other hand covers her mouth to smother her screams as I drag her backward into the door.

By now the guy she just tried to murder has gotten over his shock and is only a few feet behind me, closing the door and barricading it with what he can, which is arguably not much. I saw this room before, when Loki let me in here to show her just what a hornet's nest she really was in, and if I didn't have a good enough grasp on the bastard's need for perfection I might almost blame this mess on him.

I can see a crack traveling down the middle of that desk, flowing out of a substantial dent! Its the kind of crack that looks like if it got hit one more time would just break in two. I can't quite believe Nora was strong enough to do this, I mean it's exactly why we put those drugs in her vitamins and painkillers. We knew she had the potential to be stronger than a human, maybe even too strong to contain alive, but it's only been a few days, it should take longer then that for the effects to wear off!

Then again Loki seemed pretty fixated on jumpstarting her. Into what I don't know, but I'd bet my reflexes he gave her something to hurry that process along, and whatever it is it clearly worked because I actually have to put in an effort to hold her! Its enough of a problem that I actually need to do something to calm her down, or I get the feeling she is going to make our escape a lot harder then I want to be. "I need a picture."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0900 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

DUNCAN

* * *

I'd been trying to jimmy the table, which was missing about a quarter of it right now, under the door handle to at least slow the next person through the door down. Then he asked me to take his picture, so I felt like the eye roll and sarcasm thrown back over my shoulder as I finish wedging it in place was pretty justified. "Sure, just let me get my camera phone out."

It's about as well received as I thought it would be. Turning back around completely I find him still wrestling to keep her free hand from pulling his way from her mouth, and frustration showing behind his gritted teeth. "Dammit, the last time she saw me 'I' almost killed her, I need to show her my eyes, so find me something!"

Biting my tongue I kick the leg of the table one more time, listening to the wood scrape against the dusty concrete as it wedges another centimeter under the door knob. His argument makes sense, but I get the feeling there's something else to it, because I can see her. The look in her eye, there is fear in there, but the level doesn't fit with 'I'm being held by the guy who cut me to pieces'. There is way too much murderous rage in those eyes.

 _Hell I might even think it's a little sexy, if she wasn't just aiming at everyone._ I mean, when I left her she was upset, but that upset is on a completely different end of the spectrum then this one and I got no idea how she got here. I met a pretty girl in an elevator, and somehow I have to reconcile that woman with the one who just tried to lobotomize me with broken china! I got all of five seconds it takes me to open the tin and sacrifice the rest of my cigars to the floor to figure it out.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0901 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

CLINT

* * *

The first gleam of metal makes her struggling test my grip once again, and if we weren't racing a clock here I might even be impressed. She tried to do one of Nat's moves, where she kicks up so she can throw all her weight forward and flip her opponent over her shoulder! She tried, and failed. She may have some sort of adrenaline driven strength going on but she she still doesn't know what she is doing. That move works best when you have a grip on your opponent's neck, not when your opponent has you in a arm lock, and you have to actually get your feet off the ground, something that's pretty hard to do when the person you're fighting with has his leg curved around your lower one in a lock. Honestly she is lucky I compensated with that move or she might have dislocated part of her arm!

"Nora, Nora, stop!" My voice only makes me have to tighten my fingers into her cheeks as she tries to shake my hand off again, a guilty wince taking over my face is I feel the muffled whimper of pain echo into the inside of my hand.  _I'm so sorry._ "Its me, look up Princess." Her breath hitches and I can feel her muscles release some of their tension with a shudder just at that word, and all I can think is  _thank god_  as I see the blurry image of her eyes taking in the blurry image of my un-fluorescent ones in the reflection of that cigar tin. "Its me, okay? It's really me Princess."

I thought I had her calm. Her weight rested on my wrists heavier as she just let her body go limp in my hold, making me adjust my hold of her shaking form to keep us from both dropping to a kneel on the floor. She was crying, I could feel the tears mixing with the sweat beneath the palm still clasped over her mouth, and rolling over the knuckles of the same hand as she whimpered a muffled version of my name between the sobs.

I thought she wasn't scared anymore because she saw that my eyes weren't lit up like a glowstick under a black light, that I wasn't the thing that hurt her, but when I told her 'it's okay baby girl, I got you' She bit me!

Her teeth didn't break skin despite the fact that I could hear the crunch of the fleshly base at my thumb over the did moving closer to our door, but the attack surprised me just enough that I actually jerked my hand away just long enough for her to what sounded way too much like a 'Low' out before I clamped my hand back down, crushing her lips into her teeth awkwardly out of necessity as I tighten the rest of my grip is well.

I earned that reaction, I know it. I don't know what's been going on between her and that son of a bitch, but I know I earned her fear and her mistrust, even if it wasn't really me. My body broke into her house, my voice taunted her, my hands choked her, stuck her, stabbed and bruised and beat her.  _My hands tried to kill her kitten!_

 _That thing... I_ can still remember the taste of her blood and sweat on my tongue from when I licked it off her skin and it wanted more! I'd actually be mad if she wasn't smart enough to be scared of me! I'm supposed to be the good guy, her big brother, and all that thing behind the wheel wanted to do me to be was a rapist! I had to feel my own body enjoy having her unconscious and bloody under me!  _I_   _really want to throw up._

 _And this idiot._  "Dammit, don't let her scream, what is wrong with you!?"  _He has terrible timing._ All I really want to do is beat the shit out of something to get this feeling out of my head, and the only thing saving his ass right now is the fact that she is in the room, and she can see.  _I'm not showing her that, not again!_

"Right jacket pocket." I grit out some quick directions, trying not to hiss too much hostility in her ear as I focus on taking steady breaths. God bless Fury for hooking me up with a Mousehole. I'm supposed to be a level or two short of being qualified for this toy, but after Budapest I got one, 'just in case'. "Twist the base, don't aim it at your face and cut us a hole."

"You sure you don't want me to hold her." He asks after she takes advantage of what she hoped was a distraction when she felt me look over my shoulder as he pulled out the laser cutter and started kicking a clear spot on the floor. "Cut. The. Hole." This time I don't bother hiding the hostility, even though I can feel it make her shiver, and draw a slightly wider eyed scowl. Nora can't take being touched, and is much is I hate that this torture is necessary, I'm damn well not letting some stranger do it for me. At least I'm a familiar evil.

"Nora, I'm sorry" I return my attention completely to her once I hear the hiss of the device, and unique smell of heated concrete and rebar. "I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but we don't got time to talk about this. He's gonna cut a hole, and we're gonna drop down a level." That got one hell of wet protest, but I shut down those feeling just as quick as they rise. She may think she has got a reason to fight me, but that's all his headgames. I need to remember that and do what I need to do for her.

"We're getting out of here. I'm gonna take you somewhere safe." Somewhere safe even from S.H.I.E.L.D, and the people who want to shot first and ask questions later, until I can figure out how get us home without being greeted by a semi automatic. "I swear, I'm gonna take care of you Princess." Screw my mission, I'm gonna do what I always knew I should have almost from the beginning. No matter how true our friendship turned out to be, it's built on a foundation of bullshit that I never liked. I'm done with that, that's what got her here, learning the truth from the wrong people, its past due that she hear it from her family.

"You can kill me later if you still want." Hell, I'll load the gun myself if she wants to shoot me for what I did to her, wouldn't blame her a damn bit. If I was a woman I'd empty a clip into someone who did what 'I' did. "But right now we gotta go."  _Now please, for the love of god Princess, stop crying and hold still!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE FOR THE READERS:  
> The Photobucket galleries, as of 8/8/2015 at 9:00 pm Eastern Time (UTC-05:00), have been updated and now contain folders for chapters 50-56. I apologize for the delay and posting them and hope you check them out.


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0904 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

Clint has seven inches on me, and he is using every single one of them to hinder my mixed attempt of dead weight and squirming to get my feet back on the ground. I never thought my height would be a problem, let alone something that would get in my way. If anything it made me feel safe, because yes, I was short and to some people that made me seem like an easy target, until they see the toned bodies of my tall friends.

I tried not to be a snob about it, but when some punk is forced to tucks his tail in at the sight of a guy built like super hero coming to your defence, it's impossible to completely smother the haughty tingles. It was always a good thing for me.

Now that good thing has soured just like everything else, with one of the strong arms holding me up by my waist and carrying me against my will toward the smoldering ring that Duncan is carving into the floor. His fingers fused to my jawline by my tears only lets me watch as the circle dips at the side before the last inch just gives with a snap before he can cut the concrete all the way, and the echoing crack spews a dust cloud out of the hole.

There's something incredible about tears, they're just water and salt, but they burn the strength right out of you like they're fire. While Duncan was cutting that hole, his head tilted to the side and his jaw tensed as he tried not to be affected by the acrid dust. I just gave up my weight into the unwelcome security of Clint's grip.

That changed when Duncan stood and offering a nod to Clint bent his arms up in a boxer's block and tucking his head behind his arms to protect his face, he dove feet first down the hole. I wasn't going to be passive anymore. They were taking me away from the person who knew!  _I can't lose her again! Please! No Clint please!_

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0904 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

CLINT

* * *

I knew the fight was going to come back, even in the short time she just gave up and went limp in my hold. She wasn't quitting, she was just saving her strength, and sure enough as he jumped down that hole first so he could catch her she started straining her muscles against mine again.

"Shh." I try without expecting any results. "Shh, its okay Nora. I'll drop you true. Just keep your arms down and you won't get burned. He will catch you, but just count past the fear Princess, you're gonna be okay." Her answer, whatever it is, is smothered by my hand because as much as I want to trust her I can't risk her drawing attention with a scream.

The nails of her free hand try to dig through my skin as she tries in vain to pry off the vice hold of my arm from my waist. Her other hand made it halfway out of the position I pinned it in originally, but when I caught her again her forearm ended up in her lower back, the knob of her fist unable to uncurl and preventing her from sliding her arm free past her spine. Its her legs that worry me the most. Because I'm walking forward I can't exactly pin them down, so she is kicking out trying to find purchase on something to give her even a little bit of an advantage.

Its a huge relief when I get us squared over the glowing edges from the mousehole that she has the sense to stop kicking. She may never have seen that tech in action, but red hot rock is pretty self explanatory, and even as upset as she is she doesn't want third degree burns.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0904 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

I spent three years doing a lot of things I didn't want to do, so I got very good at it, even when I was upset or scared. I learned to push aside my wants and wishes, focusing instead on what I needed, which most of the time those needs were told to me by others. I needed to take my pills, I needed to show up for my tests, I needed an escort, I needed to check in, I needed to stick to the story, I needed to keep my mouth shut. I needed to be protected.

I needed to be afraid, always afraid.  _They kept me so afraid._ The thought gave birth to the realization of that truth. It wasn't just the phobia, that was probably just a lucky coincidence for them even if it wasn't enough. They said people wanted to kill me, people that already tried, people only they could protect me from, and people they never seemed to find! Even when I was happy I was always checking my shadow.

I'm afraid now too, because I'm doing what I don't want to do. But I'm only going to do that for a little bit longer. I know Clint's not going to take his hand off my mouth, just like I know that I'm not going to break out of his hold on me. Clint's too strong and skilled for me to actually believe I'll be able to wiggle free. I was really just stalling if I was doing anything at all but now we are over that hole and if I don't stop struggling he is just going to make the jump with me. So I let myself go still.

The hole is barely big enough for both of us, so Clint's best option is to drop me down first, and follow after, his best option is to let me go for a few seconds. That's a few seconds with no hands covering my mouth or pinning my hands. That's a few seconds I actually have a chance where I might be able to get away from both of them if I can just keep their hands off me.

Even though Duncan was already down there waiting to steady me, he wasn't risking a light so I couldn't see what was beneath me. It screwed up my landing.

The piece of ground I landed on, which was probably part of the floor that Duncan cut out, was angled down and covered with a layer of dust fine enough that it was slick. That means my weight continued to settle as it was resting on my heel, and before my feet could even flatten out on the tilted surface, my round heel did what round things do on a angled surface and moved.

I barely felt the sting as my skin was sanded off the back of my foot, because the powder of the dust filled the cuts right away, tricking my nerves for a second before the blood started to wash it out, but I wasn't really concerned about that. Feeling myself falling I pinwheeled my arms out, both to stop my fall and block the moving shadows that I knew must be Duncan trying to catch me.

The mixed attempt accomplished one of those. Duncan couldn't get a grip on me so I hit the floor, the impact an awkward angle that involved the edge of my hip and my tailbone, and sent a shockwave of compression pain up my spinal column.

It distracted me just long enough for Duncan's shadow along with the other shadows to fall over me as he reached out to pull me up, but his efforts were a bit hindered by my intentions to kick his teeth in!

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0904 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

CLINT

* * *

Once I dropped Nora down that hole I stepped away from it for a second. Sure I could just have jumped down the hole after her, but I trust that the guy down there with her is skilled enough to gently subdue whatever fight she throws at him. That's why I looked around the wreckage of the room. I need something big.

They might be a bit distracted right now, but any minute they're going to remember her, and they're gonna find the hole in the floor. It won't stop them, but I want to at least cover that hole with something, preferably something big enough that won't follow me right down and crush me when I drag it behind me with a rope.

Honestly, impressively, Nora left me with very limited options in that regard. She pretty much murdered the chairs and the tables, and even if the desk is still mostly intact, that might be too heavy and fall under the 'will crush me' category, so I choose the bed frame instead. Its wide enough and intact enough that it will make the hole impassable until they drag it out.

Unweaving the last inch of the survival bracelet, that I've been working on ever since I let her go, I tie a figure eight double loop on each each end because I don't have time to get fancy with the knots, on around the leg of the bed, and the other for my hand so I can give it a good yank to make sure it wedges itself tight.

Even though the ground is angled and dusty I stick the landing by letting my knees compensate with the momentum, but as for my plan to secure the bedframe, it evaporates at the muffled sounds coming from one dark figure pinned under another.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0904 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

DUNCAN

* * *

It took her longer to start fighting me then I thought it would, but I was expecting it. That made the first kick toward my face easy to catch even if my eye still hadn't finished adjusting to the lack of light. The warm wetness that came with it wasn't what I was anticipating though. The fact that she was bleeding did not make me happy for multiple reasons.

First being that the blood is on her foot and that wasn't injured before, so it must have just happened in the jump. Second being that's gonna get blamed on me, which it should, but it's going to be blamed more aggressively than it should, I bet given the other guy's bad mood. Third is blood is pretty trackable even without a dog, and down here on cement we don't exactly have anything to camouflage it. Then fourth and most importantly is blood means she is hurt, and I don't want her to be hurt.

We're in a hurry though, so I shut all that down and focus on catching her. She is crawling away on the back of her arms, not daring to to roll over and actually get up because she knows if she does that she isn't going to be able to deflect my hands. Not that she has much of a chance to do that anyway.

Despite her kicking and blood slicked skin I get a good hold of her lower leg, and dragging her back toward me I crouch down over her in a straddle quickly so my other hand can smother the scream I know she's gonna let out. "Shh, shh, stop, you gotta shut up okay!" I hiss quietly as I hear another thud from combat boots. I'd been waiting for that sound, but I wasn't expecting the kick to the face that came right after it!

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0904 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

CLINT

* * *

The reaction was stupid and instinctual, but he had her trapped on the ground and whimpering, and all I knew was red. I could 'feel' the grade of her carpet through the material over my knees, and I could 'feel' the soft warmth of her waist against my inner thighs. Her skin was so soft as I trailer my calloused hand up her thigh, ticking the end of her shorts before I wrapped my hand around the rougher cut grooves of the metal grip and twisted it. I felt the heat of fresh blood well up against the side of my hand as I heard her flesh tear! Then I tasted it too. Sweat, and blood, and the salt from where her goddamned tears rolled down her neck, were on my tongue as my hands felt cotton snap under their strength.

I drove the tip of my boot right into the soft spot beneath his jaw when I kicked him. I could have just pulled him off by hand, or even told him to let her go, because in the back of my head I knew he was just trying to keep her from running away. But I kicked him like a soccer player because the aggression had to go somewhere, even if it was just someone unlucky enough to match the memory of myself!

The gagging snort he releases makes it pretty clear he did see it coming at all, not with his eyes or his situational awareness, but he still was smart enough to move with the blow to diminish the damage. After the first half an inch of pressure, which is a lot given the taut flesh down there, he started rolling to the left to avoid the potential of my kick breaking his jaw, or snapping his neck from the force. The second his weight left her waist, Nora was moving but surprisingly it was right towards me.

I figured she'd run away, whatever Loki filled her head with made her want nothing to do with us, to view us as her enemy, and with me at least I couldn't blame her for that. But instead, she ran right at me, with tears in her eyes and her hands beating at my chest. I let her land every blow, not because she deserved to hurt me, but because of what my ears heard her scream at me. "WHERE IS MY BABY YOU BASTARD?! WHERE IS SHE?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY BABY?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE FOR THE READERS:  
> The Photobucket galleries, as of 8/8/2015 at 9:00 pm Eastern Time (UTC-05:00), have been updated and now contain folders for chapters 50-56. I apologize for the delay and posting them and hope you check them out.


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0904 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

DUNCAN

* * *

After the blood started flowing evenly in my head again, driving away the black rimmed vision of stars, and I manage to cough my windpipe back into place from where his  _steel toed fucking boots_  shifted it to. All I wanted to do was crack his head open with a pipe but then she said the magic word:

Baby.

Its amazing how a single word, even to someone who isn't a father, or ever wants to be, can be shut down so completely by that word. And how quickly it reboots me too.  _WHERE IS MY BABY YOU BASTARD?! WHERE IS SHE?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY BABY?!_ The words she is sobbing don't leave much room for interpretation. She thinks he kept her baby from her!

There's another one of her, somewhere. A baby, and a girl. There's nothing in the records, but that doesn't mean much to me. Even I didn't get to know everything, and after the war a lot of things went up in smoke. Does this mean that the kid might be on earth, does mean my father knows?  _Does this mean I want my father to know?_

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0904 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

CLINT

* * *

Something's setting my instincts on edge about the way my 'partner' is way too quiet in thought despite the fact I almost kicked his head off and we have a screaming 'mother' on our hands. Or maybe it's just this twitchy energy I can't shake that's got me seeing things. I make it not matter though because if he isn't going to fight me I'm gonna focus on the one who actually is.

_WHERE IS MY BABY YOU BASTARD?! WHERE IS SHE?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY BABY?_ Nora thinks she is a mother. Jesus Christ,  _that's_  what he put in her head! Son of a bitch.  _That was smart, that was real smart._  He only had her for a couple days, but he figured out exactly how to work her to his favor. If there is one thing in the world that could shift Nora's loyalties it would be a baby, and even if she was suspicious at first, her amnesia makes her heart fertile ground for a seed like that to turn into a damn bush, and wouldn't you figure, it's covered in thorns.

What stings more than the afterglow of venom in my veins is the fact that he told her I was in on it. He told her I helped S.H.I.E.L.D keep her in the dark about her 'baby'. He told her I made sure she never found out we had her daughter. He told her I was that kind of person. I don't care if this daughter she thinks she has is a lie he fed her, I don't care if I'm already a monster because I betrayed her trust. I care because of a gapped tooth grin with brown eyes and braided pigtails waiting for me back in Iowa.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0904 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

_He knew? He knew. He knew!_  I knew he wouldn't let me keep hitting him forever, but that didn't stop me from continuing the motion even though I can feel it sinking under the weight of all those damn tears.  _He's my brother. He hurt me, and he lied to me._ I know I should be so, so, furious about that but I keep coming back to every memory that led me to calling him my  _brother_.

"I'm here to help you figure out who you 'are', okay kiddo?"

"I have a new name for you. What do you think of Alice Hudgens?"

"Alice?! Alice it's me, Clint. Alice, look at me? Alice, princess, look at me."

"It's by Pat Benatar, she's like... well, lady Beethoven, in the 80's."

"No, its tenny shoes, I don't care that book spells it 'tennis', just trust me on this one okay?"

"He made you bleed Nora! I don't care if his name's Tony Stark okay, he tried to kiss you and made you bleed!"

"Shh, shh, Nora, princess stop." That voice that matches my memory too well whispers as he slows down my dying strikes to stillness with gentle hands wrapped around my wrists. "Shh, you don't have a daughter, he lied okay, he lied."

That reignites the fading embers of my emotions a lot like gasoline on a fire, but even though my first punch forces some air out of his chest he was able to tight his fingers quick enough to keep me from slipping my wrists out of their control. My voice is still free though.

"I remember her you son of a bitch, I remember!" Even as the fury cracks with heartbreak. " I remember!"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0904 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

CLINT

* * *

I got her pulse pounding against my fingertips, and even though her eyes are wet I have those too, and they're telling me something very important. It doesn't matter if it's a lie forged by Loki's use of words or magick, according to this in the field lie test, she is telling the truth and whether it can be proven or not doesn't matter because she believes. So I have to give her something else to believe in.

I'm quicker than both of them. Before he can finish his "What the hell are you doing?!" and turn around or draw his own gun I have two out, but only one of them is aimed at him. The other is trapped in her hand under mine and aimed at me.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0904 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

You'd think, for something so terrifying, it wouldn't feel so light. I missed the specifics of most of his movement, but those weren't as important as the outcome of them. I can feel the textured material of the grip put patterned lines into my palm under the strength of his hand as he locks my thumb in place with his and hooks his fingers behind my knuckles to keep me from letting go of the gun he put there.

"You know who I am." He says those words with his eyes fixed on mine, but even with that I know they are meant as a warning for Duncan, who he is also aiming a gun at. Duncan started to draw his own weapon when Clint forced one into my hand, and Clint's words are a warning, he can shoot Duncan in the head without even turning around, and his gun is already aimed and cocked, not still half in the holster.

"We don't have time for this." Duncan attempts with a voice of reason that covers up his annoyed concern as he eyes the pistol trained on him warily. That wariness increases a little with the sharpness of Clint's reply.

"She thinks I kept her daughter away from her, that gets time!" Its the sound of my nervous inhale that catches his attention, and makes him realize he was scaring me too. Dropping his head a little he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Its okay princess, I'm not gonna hurt you, I swear I'm not gonna hurt you."

Its pathetic how quickly the sound of guilt in his tone brings the tears back to my eyes and I hate it so much because he is a traitor to everything I believed about him. "You lied to me."

"It was my job." The breath hitches at how easily he admits that, and I have to clench my teeth to keep the following sobs in, my eyes following suit as I squint them shut tightly, turning my face away from him to hide some of the tears they squeeze out from his sight.

"But I'm not gonna lie to you now." The sound that leaves me is an angry huff past my teeth as I turn my face back sharply at that sentence. The unspoken message of why I should possibly believe him about anything after he just admitted he lied to me for three years is answered by his hand adjusting the aim of his gun at his heart! "Look me in my eyes and take my pulse..." He lets his sentence trail off there, patiently enduring my continued strain on his strength against the hand holding the gun between us.

Even my soft "Clint please" doesn't make him let go. He just smiles and shakes his head again.

"No, we're not moving until you do this. Take my pulse Nora, and if I'm lying you can pull the trigger." My hand is shaking but his pulse is like a warm steady drum beat, even with the feeling of his throat shifting from speaking. "If you have a daughter out there, I promise I will help you find her." His pulse doesn't race and his pupils don't widen. "I'll protect you, her too, even from S.H.I.E.L.D. And if you let me stick around, maybe she can play with my Lila." The only change in them is that his pulse slows with resignation. Its my eyes that widen. "Yeah, I have one of those waiting for me too."


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT

* * *

FRIDAY MAY 3RD 2012

0915 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

CLINT

* * *

She started crying and hitting me again, but this time I welcomed it because of the broken laugh buried under those damn tears. "Shh. I know, I know, I'm a jerk."

When I put that gun in her hand I was absolutely willing to accept her squeezing that trigger if that was what she chose. That's not to say I wanted to be shot, I really don't like getting shot, but she earned that choice, and there was no way she was ever going to get the chance if I didn't give it to her. She could never take a gun from me, and if I wasn't aiming one at him to keep him still, he would never let her either.

But even with that willingness I felt her make the decision before she knew it herself, and I freed her hand from the crushing grip of mine, hearing the gun slide free from her fingers as the weight proved too much and dragged her hand down with it.

That's about all it took before she finally took her eyes off mine and gave into the sobbing, her tears soaking into the shoulder of my jacket.

My gun left my hand next, the relief and irritation rising in the merc's face now that I no longer was threatening to put a hole in his head. But that glancing observation is all the attention I give him. She is the only thing I care about right now.

I kept my touch light, because there's been a whole lot of skin contact going on in the last few seconds, and I can't tell if she is freaking out over that or all the other shit that's going on so I'm just following the old rules. Her hair acts as a barrier beneath my palm as I rest it against the back of her neck, my thumb shifting through the strands in a comforting gesture as the other one wraps around her back.

"Shhh princess, shh. I got you now." I whisper parallel to her ear as I endure the feeling of her shaking in my arms, her fingers twisted so tightly in my jacket she only has an inch of slack to gain momentum behind her tiny frustrated strikes. Those break my heart a little.

But the other emotion I'm feeling, which I take advantage of in her inability to see my face is massive relief.  _Thank god she didn't hate me enough to shoot me._  Along with awkward discomfort because even if she is my sister, she is a sobbing woman dressed in torn silk, with blood and slivers decorating her pretty skin.

* * *

FRIDAY MAY 3RD 2012

0916 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

DUNCAN

* * *

_Barton's got a kid._ That's a bit of knowledge I stockpile for later. Dad's always been on the look out for things he can use as a contingency plan against the so called 'Fury Loyalists' and Hawkeye was always one that worried him because his list was almost none in existent and dad didn't like someone who he couldn't blackmail. A kid fills that list up pretty quick though, and if I deliver that information I might even be able to use it as a bargaining chip in my favor.

Its back burnered by the information my eyes are taking in though. He's got her resting against his chest, her face laying on his shoulder as he whispers and nods to whatever she is whispering back to him, his damn hands smoothing her hair in place before he cups her face in those hands and presses a kiss to her forehead, her only protest a tiny sniffle as she nods her head once again with wet eyes and a worbbling smile.

Then even worse she lets him put his hands on her legs as he tears quick strips off the bottom of her dress to wrap around her bleeding arms and her bare feet.  _He stabbed her! How can she just forgive him like that?!_

* * *

FRIDAY MAY 3RD 2012

0917 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

_Nora, you know what I do for a living._  That was his answer when I asked him why he never told me before, and I didn't need to ask anything else.

Clint's not just a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, he's the guy they call in not when they need information, but when they need a body to fill a bag. Its why no one liked him, or liked that I liked him. Clint's a killer, and even though I always looked past that because I knew the hidden part of him he let so few see, I wasn't ignorant to that.

Some people thought I was, or that I didn't realize the severity of what he did, that he was taking people's lives every time he drew his bow. I knew, I understood. When Clint left and came back I knew it meant there was one less life in the world, one more orphan or widow, and one more funeral to be scheduled by someone. I wasn't condoning a murderer though, I was supporting my brother, a man who kept the world a little safer for others.

oClint was a man with secrets, which I always knew they were there, even though he shared more with me then he did with most. He was a part of S.H.I.E.L.D though, and everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D had their secrets, even I had some of my own secrets, Clint told me one of his once. His life before S.H.E.I.L.D, it wasn't rosey, it was rough and you either took the hit or you hit back. He hit back too hard once and he almost lost everything. Then a guy in a suit stood on the other side of the bars, and offered him a fresh start. He said he made a deal, and he never regretted it. His family must have been the deal, their safety for his service.

It made a whole lot more sense then when he jokingly would say 'well what else is a marksmen supposed to do?' I knew he wasn't that cold about the value of human life.

He answered the rest of my questions. She had brown hair and eyes. She was four, and yeah, she was born not long before I woke up. And yes, Natasha knew knew about her and so did Fury. He had a son too, who was gonna be 8 soon. They both were pretty like their mom, and they knew about me.

That threw me a little, I didn't know how to feel about that. Clint told his family, a family I didn't know existed, about me. I feel like I should be so offended by that but I can't get the giddy idea out of my head that there is a little girl out there somewhere who might think of me as aunt Nora.

"I'll take you to meet her." He told me as he tipped my face back and looked me in the eye. "Laura, Lila, Cooper. Hell I'll even put you to work on the farm." That last part earning a shaking smile out of me. "But we can't do that here, you understand. I'd love to give you all the time you need, but you need to trust me and we need to move, okay."

My nod in agreement prompts him to pull me a little closer for a chaste kiss of comfort, then the sound of tearing fabric starts filling the room and I do my best to pretend the sweat from his hands doesn't sting.

* * *

FRIDAY MAY 3RD 2012

0918 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

CLINT

* * *

_God she's a miracle._ Beaten, stabbed, lied to, and imprisoned. Those are my sins against her, she knows them now them too, but she is sitting here in front of me trying to hide the trembling in her flesh from me, and letting me put my hands on her.  _She's such a fucking miracle, and I'm such a piece of shit!_

A second ago she even thought I was keeping her away from her kid for the the last three years! That didn't stop her from forgiving me enough to trust me as I tear her skirt into makeshift bandages for her bleeding arms and bare feet.

I should be glad she's not fighting me anymore, but to be honest I really wish she still was because she should be. From day one, I've been lying to her about everything. I've been earning her trust and her love. I made her believe me, and follow me like a puppy. I did that because it was my  _assignment,_ she is my  _assignment. I_ was like her DAMN ZOOKEEPER for three years, and she never saw it because I was smiling the whole time.  _She should not forgive me, ever!_

But she is a miracle and she does anyways, my baby sister, and for that I'm making her my own mission again. Screw Fury, and S.H.I.E.L.D. Screw the will of the World Council and that old snake oil son of a bitch Pierce, I always felt dirty after I had to deal with him. Screw all of them, I'm answering to her now.

I'm still not satisfied with the knot but I know it's as good as I'm ever gonna make it. The bastard could of at least let her keep some sandals or something, but following the rule of 'a captive runs slower without footwear' Loki didn't even give her socks. So instead because I'm gonna have to make her keep up with us when we run I'm trying to turn bloody silk into a pair of slippers. Even that effort has a time limit to it, and I'm on the edge of exceeding it because I care too damn much so I'm making myself stop.

My knees pop a little as I stretch them out from the crouch I kept them in too long, and hold out my hand to her in a parody of a request. It looks like I'm inviting her to take it, but you can turn down an invitation, and as much as I don't want to steal anymore choice from her, I'll tie her up and carry her if I have to. And I'm a piece of shit again, because I'm using a bargaining piece to stack the table in my favor

"Come on Alice, we got a white knight who's waiting for you." Her 'daughter' isn't the only thing I'm betting she loves outside these walls. There's a 'vintage boy from Brooklyn' out there too, and for him she takes my filthy hand.

* * *

FRIDAY MAY 3RD 2012

0919 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

RUMLOW

* * *

"Boss" It's Jack's voice that catches my attention and even if his voice is about as robotic as it usually is, it's the fact that he spoke at all that catches my attention.

I'd been talking to the pilot, half assedly reading the instrument panel while I listened to him fill in the rest that the plane couldn't tell me. But the rarity of Jack's voice gracing my ears made me glance over my shoulder and let the pilot get back to flying us to to our mission. If Jack's speaking odds are it's important.

"What you got?" Most people answer questions with words, but now that Rollins has my attention he just pops the monitor out of the wall and hands the screen over to me.

At first I'm not really sure what I'm looking at because the feed is dark and much grainier than usual, but I can see clearly enough to identify two people in the frame. The grainy filter stays in place but the rest of it cleans up when a door opens and finally lets some light into the lense and onto the situation.

That's Barton, and the alien bitch, who looks like she just walked off the set of a horror movie for some reason, and they are pissing me off. That room is too modern and clean to be anything from the bunker that Asgardian faggot holed up with the Tesseract.

HYDRA wasn't happy about that alien just beaming in and walking off with that thing, but we didn't reveal that we had a mole in his base to the actual S.H.I.E.L.D because we saw this as an opportunity for the real HYDRA to take it underground, and start trying the real fun experiments with it. Not the kinder gentler shit we had to adhere to while we were pretending to be S.H.E.I.L.D.

But it looks like Junior is sticking to the plan. "Sitwell?" If the boss's son is going rogue, or rogue-er I guess, we might need a button pushed, but the negative headshake I get as an answer from Jack isn't much of a surprise.

Sitwell is on the Helicarrier right now, and they got him on the bridge trying to track down a piece of history, so he can't just walk away to have a chat on his phone. "Keep trying." That gets a nod too, but that's as far as my concern for the boss's son goes.

I'm sorta pissed that he started moving while we still have an hour in the air, but I'm sorta giddy too. Pierce's old man made it pretty clear that how high the body count rose was up to my discretion, as long as I didn't kill the women, and we have HYDRA's favorite toy sitting quietly in the back of the plane with us.

My promotion to Captain of STRIKE was meant to be temporary, because daddy is always gonna think of his son first, but I think I just got handed an opportunity to make this position a permanent one and I'll be damned if I'm not gonna take it. What's the harm of a little murder at the end of the day anyways?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those out there who are Rumlow fans, I apologize if I didn't do his POV justice. There isn't a lot of characterization to him yet other than sadistic and cocky, and he has no established history yet in the MCU. So I drew a bit of his comic book counterpart personality into the POV. Also in terms of not a lot of material, there is even less for Jack Rollins, he literally has one line in the whole CATWS movie, and other then that he just looks stern.


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER FIFTY NINE

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0921 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

After Clint finished wrapping me up and getting me on my feet he spared me one more evaluating look to reassure himself I wasn't going to run, then when he found something strong enough to satisfy that need he turned away and started pulling supplies from what looks like a small weapons cache.

'Duncan' must have put that there in preparation for all of this. Thinking of him seems to bring him back into my reality because right after that thought passes through my head I feel a weight settle on my shoulders. It surprised me, but his smile and his hand on my shoulder offered me a warm sense of security as I realized he was giving me his coat so I wouldn't be cold.

His smile lost a lot of its warmth when Clint told him to take it off me though. Even I was a little upset by that order, until we both registered what Clint was waiting to put on me. Duncan 'respectfully' smothered his irritation because while his jacket would keep me warm, the bullet proof vest Clint wanted to put on me would keep me alive. There was a short argument about just putting it over top, but Clint made the point that if it was visible a shooter would just aim around it, and that made me take his side, because he was right. So Duncan helped me shrug the heavy jacket off my sticky skin and let Clint carefully secure the vest under it.

The next thing, that both agreed I needed to take, was another gun. I didn't want to touch it, but Clint convinced me in the end. Its safety was on, and it would make him feel better if I had it. They weren't gonna let me have a chance to use it, I just needed to carry it. So carried it.

Then we were moving. At each door we came to one covered the other as they breached the next room, and they melted the door jam shut with the heat cutter too. It wouldn't stop anyone for long, but it would at least slow people down. Then we came to the service ladder, and the next fight.

Clint told Duncan to go first, because I was in a skirt. Someone with a gun needed to breach the hatch, but they weren't going to leave the tail of the line undefended either. That wasn't what offended Duncan, it was the way Clint's words made it clear what he thought of his character.

I knew Duncan didn't like Clint, even if he held it in for my sake, and I knew his reasons were good. Duncan was connected to S.H.I.E.L.D, and really no one who knew Clint from S.H.E.I.L.D seemed to like him because he was an assassin. But then there was also the fact that Duncan probably saw him walk in covered in my blood.

I knew Clint didn't like Duncan either, because whether or not he knows who Duncan really is I get the feeling they only actually met in person here. So Clint views him as a wild card, and because he is being so protective of me he isn't going to trust him even if he is willing to work with him. Both reasons made sense, but when Duncan hissed out

"What, you think you're better than me, better for her then me?! Out of the two of us which one tried to kill and rape..." When Clint's knuckles turned white and moved for his knife, it's Clint I sided with when I directed my angry scream at Duncan. I didn't know how else to save his life!

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0927 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN TUNNEL

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

CLINT

* * *

Her scream shattered the hold, and as much I still think the curly haired bastard had it coming, I'm glad she it did.

I couldn't miss the way he looked at her if I tried, and I was but he had it bad. Nora isn't ugly, she's one of the farthest things from it, but it's not just her face that attracts attention, its her voice, its the way she holds herself, hell I can't really think of anything that doesn't make her attractive. I'll even admit that for a little while I felt the same way, but I have a wife and two kids. And as pretty as Nora is, the fact that she wasn't human made a pretty big bridge I wasn't willing to cross.

That didn't mean I wanted him to walk it in my place. Sure she clung to him like a rock in the rapids, but that's because I wasn't 'here'. I'm here now though, and taking care of her is my job, it doesn't belong to some puppy eyed agent from some foreign intelligence agency!

Part of me knows I'm not seeing the situation through calm collected lenses, but even knowing that I'm still coiled too tightly to stop myself, so when he stepped behind her in the climbing arrangement I let a little bit of the irrational out. I wasn't going to let him get a good look up her skirt, not that I wanted the view either but at least I knew where my thoughts would be.

Then he got pissed back, and whatever chains I had holding the cork in place gave up their fight, and the stopper on my emotions didn't even try. He accused me of trying to rape her, and I don't care if my body did, no one was gonna say to that me without paying the price.

Then she did the bravest, stupidest, most impressive thing I've ever seen her do! She stepped between us, she offered me her unguarded back and though I couldn't see it, her face must have been like a lioness when she screamed at him, her voice so angry her shoulders continued to heave as she stood with her arms out defensively between us. She put herself in danger to protect us from each other!

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0928 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN TUNNEL

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

DUNCAN

* * *

Her flinch hurts pieces of my heart I thought had decayed away a long time ago, but it doesn't stop the angry guilt from rearing up as I watch the archer surprise her with his touch, pulling her around and hugging her against his chest.

The part that bugs me more though is when the angry edge of her heavy breathing gives way to heavy sobbing, and a broken chant of 'don't fight please don't fight, just don't' as he shushs her and whispers reassurance. His eyes catch mine to get my own answer.

"Yeah, we won't fight." I give it, but for her. I still want to beat his face in for thinking he is a better person than me after what he did to her. But what I want a whole lot less is to keep being the reason she cries. I don't know why the hell she is choosing him, a man who almost murdered her, over me, but I can bite my tongue until we are safe. After all there's another message in his eyes she is completely unaware of. "I'll take the lead." Its the promise that we will kick each other's asses later.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0929 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN TUNNEL

LOCATION UNKNOWN

* * *

NORA

* * *

Because Duncan was the first up the ladder, when I finally got the clear to start climbing up and through the service hatch of the floor, it was Duncan who held out his hand to help me out of the way hole. It was accompanied by an apologetic tug to his smile before I actually took it.

But once I was out of the tube and in sight of the room I found it stole all my attention. Clint took me to a carnival once, talking our way in after the place had closed with the influence of a badge and the fact that he knew the guys who ran it. Among all the amazing things I got to see that night, a soundboard was one of them. It was the only time I saw one up close, unless you count the ones I'm looking at now.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0930 HOURS

SOUND ROOM, THE PALLADIUM THEATER

CARMEL, INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

"Clint?" I knew she'd ask the question eventually "Where are we?" But the answer is still just as awkward as I knew it would be, I can tell by the way her eyebrows draw together and the way I rub the back of my neck lightly.

"You're not gonna believe this, but..." Rolling my eyes I take a deep breath before I continue. "We're standing in the Palladium." Sure as I knew she would she recognizes that word, and makes the connection. The problem is, the connection isn't true. "No princess, we aren't that lucky, this isn't a Stark place." Not really at least. Its named that, because not too long ago a certain multinational tech conglomerate contributed a lot of money to the arts in Indianapolis and its surrounding counties. Hell, if I remember right they went a little overboard with Ironman fever. One of its smaller theaters is called the TARKington, all it's missing is an S in the front.

As for the reason it's connected to an old cold war bunker, that's because the company that was contracted to build it was named SHIEL Sexton Construction Co. I don't know who named that shell company, but I'd fire them for lack of creativity.

"Pepper is into culture." I add with a smirk, surmising my thoughts into a quick explanation for her. "Welcome to Carmel, Indiana. I'm never bringing you back here again though, if you like theaters we'll go somewhere else okay?" Even I'm not so stoic and anxious that I can resist the chuckle that leaks out with how hard she nods in agreement.  _That's my girl._

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0931 HOURS

BACKSTAGE, THE PALLADIUM THEATER

CARMEL, INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

The back of the stage, with all the ropes, heavy electric cords, and giant spotlights was interesting, and the theater itself was beautiful with the rich red wood floors and velvet seats contrasted by the white boxes and pale blue walls decorated dark blue with trimmed pink panels. The lobby and staircase with marble and taupe walls trimmed with brown in white were lovely too, but Clint was right; I never want to see this place again.

I don't think I ever want to see the city this theater is in again either, I might not even wish to set foot in this state either, I want to be away from that underground room so badly. So even though I can't help but see this place because my eyes have to be open so I don't trip over my feet, I'm only looking at is obstacles to avoid, and I continue with that determination until we clear the stairs and I can see daylight spilling in through the glass of the outer doors.

"Hey, hey Princess." The daylight stole all my senses for a second it took Clint shaking my shoulder slightly to get my attention back. He has one of his hands on the door handle, but his other is now shifting to my cheek and making me look at the echo of his amused but understanding smirk. "Okay Princess, now you run when I run, you stop when I stop, you fall..."

I try to shake my head at that guessing what's coming after that but Clint doesn't let me. His fingers hook my chin lightly, steadying my face. "You fall, I fall with you because I'm not leaving you, behind, ever. You understand?"

I nod a yes to his question, sniffing softly and wiping away the beginning of more tears in my already hot puffy eyes, but that's not good enough. "Say it Princess." I nod again, but I do as he asks me to, I say it and I make it a promise by saying it. "I understand, I'll run just as fast as you do, and I won't fall, I won't."

His hand is almost rough as it shifts and hooks the back of my neck, making my face dip forward as he quickly presses a kiss to the top of my head. But then his focus shifts to the other person in our company. "If I fall, you knock her out and carry her you son of a bitch, because if you don't leave my ass behind, I don't care what she thinks of you I will find you and kill you!"

He didn't even wait for my protest or Duncan's answer because as soon is the last word was said one of his hands wrapped around my wrist and the other shoved open the door so his moving feet could drag us through, redefining what I thought running was.


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SIXTY

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0936 HOURS

THE CENTER FOR THE PERFORMING ARTS

CARMEL, INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

Natasha says it best, "First rule of going on the run is: don't run, walk." And she's right, running is the dumbest thing you can do when you're on the run. But we got a pissed off alien with the god stick and the world's craziest battery who is still behind us somewhere. There's a Subterranean fight going on in a city that didn't know it had Subterranean levels. We are two men toting guns and tactical gear, and then we've got Nora. She's a being a fucking saint about it, my little princess, but the more we're moving the more that movement is making her cuts and scratches bleed and she is starting to look like she is doing a Carrie impression under his jacket.

That's not even the worst of it, though it definitely ranks at the top of the emotional shit list. The worst part is it's daylight. Its 10am, and even in a little city like this, that's late enough that there are people on the streets. Now normally that wouldn't' be a problem, I'd just break in somewhere to get Nora cleaned up properly and put in new clothes, but like I mentioned we have a pissed off alien with a god stick somewhere behind us, whose only reason for not finding us is he's probably still busy playing whack a mole with the Indiana SWAT team.

The fact that they are keeping Loki busy, definitely at the cost of their lives, would be a much more appreciated sacrifice if they didn't also have the regular PD canvassing the streets until the local army reserve, and whatever S.H.I.E.L.D forces close enough to swarm in shows up. This is bad, and when I say bad I mean this is 'my life needs its own acronym' bad.

_On second thought, screw this 'my life needs an acronym' crap, my life is one._  We have a paved courtyard to cross, and unless you count the service side of the walls to a shopping center as cover, which I don't, I just view that as something to stop the bullets  _after_  they go through us, then we also have an overgrown construction sight. Flat and open, this is why I hate little towns. There's not even anything tall enough for me to get a good vantage point.

_God stick, God stick!_  But even if we had a second for us to stop and find a different route I have no intention of doing that. Running across open flat ground in the daylight sucks, but so do all our other options, so I just hang on and silently pity her feet as I feel so proud of how well she is keeping her promise to keep up with me.

I'm even more proud when we reach the outside walls of the shopping center, and she forgets to stop! I have to adjust my pace since I was in the earliest stages of slowing down and dropping into a crouch on the other side of the loading ramp, but soon enough I closed the distance between us, cutting in front of her and letting her weight run into me, instead of pulling on her arm and having the sudden resistance make her fall backwards.

She collides with me so hard that my bracing foot scratches a short line in the dirt. "Shh, shh, its okay, its okay, I got you." I whisper after my arms wrap around her in a gentle lock, just strong enough to keep her here with me as I talk her out of her autopilot state of mind. "You forgot to use your breaks, it's okay, I got you."

But breaking someone's autopilot doesn't always do them any favors, and with the 'few' scares she had before ' _me'_  I know Nora is good at coming down off an adrenaline high, so before she clears that crest I'm gonna make us start moving again. "We got a building to hug and one more big road to cross before we get to some trees, you ready?" That's my girl. She nods so hard.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0936 HOURS

BEHIND RAISED PARKING LOT

HANOVER PLACE, CARMEL, INDIANA

* * *

DUNCAN

* * *

_Let it be._  He saw her keep going.  _Let it be._ He moved first.  _Let it be._  He caught her first, her face burying back against his shoulder, her own heaving and her knuckles white on his coat.  _Let it be. Let it be. Let it be!_

We are running for our lives, for her life. It doesn't matter how much I hate what I'm looking at, it's still not enough to make me think even for a second that fighting will get us anything but caught and killed. I am just going to keep biting my tongue until it bleeds. I'll worry about how I'm going to deal with Barton and what he did to her after we are safe. After she is safe, then that's when I will let my priorities change.

It makes it easy for me to remember that her life is on the line too because of the line of blood she is leaving in her wake. I'm the back end of the line, which means I'm the one who gets to see every bloody print left by her dainty feet.  _She's hurt, you let her get hurt, you won't let happen again. God bless a mission statement._

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0936 HOURS

BEHIND RAISED PARKING LOT

HANOVER PLACE, CARMEL, INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

When we reach the end of the wall and the entrance of the parking garage I stop our little procession and spare a quick glance to the guy in back, getting a nod and knowing he understands by the why he tucks his firearm out of sight while still not taking his hand off it. Now its Nora's turn.

There's not a lot I can do about her appearance, no matter how much I wish to, because we are back to the matter of not having the time, there is a little I can do. Sliding my gun back into its unclipped holster to free up both my hands I order her, "smooth down your hair a little Princess" and only half see her shocked look as I move my eyes right along the way to what I'm pulling out of my pocket.

After I woke up, it was real easy for me to move around, even if it hadn't been for all the chaos going on. I was supposed to be there as far as everyone else was concerned. Then there was the fact that most of the time down there I spent around Loki and Erik, not the mass of Merc and scientists, so most of them weren't ever familiar enough to notice that my blue eyes weren't 'blue' anymore. It gave me the chance to grab a hat.

I wanted two of them, because it would make it just a little harder for S.H.I.E.L.D's facial recognition to find a match from a satellite photo, but situational haste made me settle for rolling up the old slouch hat I saw sitting on a crate and calling it good enough. I'm giving it to her because I know without question I'm going to be much better at ducking cameras then she is.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0936 HOURS

BEHIND RAISED PARKING LOT

HANOVER PLACE, CARMEL, INDIANA

* * *

DUNCAN

* * *

My jacket, and the dress I pulled out for her, and now he just put my hat on her head. Lucky chance has her practically dressed in me and I like it. I like it even though I find myself a little disturbed by the possessive undercurrent of that feeling. I shift my thoughts away from that with the mission at hand instead. I can see just what he is doing, so as he adjusts the hat to a better angle I help out a little.

"The jacket's got a few inner pockets lil hen, tuck your gun hand in one, like you're hugging yourself." He shot me one hell of look when he heard me call her that nickname, and it was intense enough for her to give him a look too, though her's was nervous and that made him settle down. Even if he hates me back he's willing to dance till the shows over because he doesn't want to be the reason she is upset either.

"Yeah, do as he says." His concern for her is strong enough to make him say that without gritting his teeth.

"See that street?" The next parts a quick lesson, for her. "See that street?" He asks, nodding over his shoulder at the four lanes while still locking eyes with her. "That's our street." T _here's something interesting about the human mind..._ "We're 'walking' across that street."  _...It doesn't matter how much evidence there is to the contrary..._ "We own that street. Okay? There's nothing wrong with us being there."  _...All you have to do is act with a little certainty and people just assume it's okay and look away._ "We're just crossing the street."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0936 HOURS

BEHIND RAISED PARKING LOT

HANOVER PLACE, CARMEL, INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

_We're walking across the street! They're insane!_  It's four lanes and two way traffic. Its people in cars who are going to be looking at us, at me from both sides. I have bleeding legs sticking out of the frayed end on a silk dress and am wearing a man's blood stained camo jacket. Even if they overlooked Clint and Duncan how the hell do they think anyone is going to overlook me! Just because they put a hat on me?!

"No..." My feet are moving but they're not moving forward. They're moving away from Clint's concerned reaching ones, and back me right up into a different pair. The weight of Duncan's hand rests on my shoulder for a millisecond, and quicker then Clint can stop him he gives it a tiny squeeze as he skirts in front of me and catches my eyes with his.  _It's okay. I am going to keep you safe. Don't worry, just trust me and take a breath._  is the message I see in his eyes. The message I hear from his mouth is a bit different. It makes me huff out a laugh before I close my eyes and nod. "Yeah, I could really use a drink." He said he had a bottle waiting for me on the other side of that street.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0936 HOURS

BEHIND RAISED PARKING LOT

HANOVER PLACE, CARMEL, INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

Hearing Nora actually want a drink was like a sour kick in the teeth, but I took it because it got her moving again. Didn't mean it hurt any less.

After S.H.E.I.L.D let Nora out of that hamster cage, it was almost four months short of a year since she woke up, and the first time the holiday rolled around for her I had a terrible idea. Nat talked me out of it the first time, but that didn't make me any less interested. It was Saint Patrick's day, and I was in charge of a someone not human. I really wanted to see if I could get her drunk. It was stupid and childish, but I'd bet money it would cross EVERY other agent's mind if they were in my position.

Later the desire to get her drunk morphed into something a bit more mature and caring. It was a few months later I got my chance, and it was because of Nora's curiosity. She asked me what the difference between vodka and rum was, so I decided to show her instead, with a side of Sam Adams. I actually wanted her to get smashed and maybe even sick, but it wasn't because I was being mean.

I figured out early on that the best teacher for Nora was first hand experience, and eventually would be out in the world making her own decisions and doing things without me around all the time. So I wanted her to know exactly how stupid someone can become with a few too many drinks in them. I ended up racking a pretty bill, but she ended up in the bathroom, and I counted it as a win.

Even the fact that I had to deal with an angry Russian woman after that and a week's worth of the silent treatment, I didn't regret my decision. But that was the last time she ever touched anything related to alcohol, and that included wine. If she knew wine was used to cook a dish, she wouldn't even consider eating it, and with her love of food that was sort of big, and I was sort of a jerk for that because there are some amazing things cooked with wine.

_But now that's changed. I_ wasn't looking, I couldn't see her, and in that absence she changed. It's not just the tears, or the blood, or her anger. She's not 'my' Nora anymore. Things happened, things I don't even know about and she's never going to be the same person again.  _And I did that._ I don't give a damn that I wasn't in the driver seat.  _I_   _started it all the second I followed Loki's order._

_But she still smiles just like the old Nora._ She saw me glance back at her, her eyes trying so hard not to look scared as his hand on her shoulder kept her walking slow but steady, and her hand shook behind the flap of that jacket. She saw me check on her and she forced a smile.  _And I can't even hold that gaze._

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0936 HOURS

S RANGELINE RD

CARMEL, INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

_Don't run, don't run, don't run! They'll definitely see if you run. They're just bloody footprints, its not a big deal, don't run._ God, I want to run, but Duncan's hand is hooked just enough into the shoulder straps that the tension is slowing me down. But I feel like this is too slow, because I know, I know there's danger behind us, and if we don't hurry they're gonna get hurt. I don't want them to get hurt.

Calm. You have to stay calm. You do that and there's a bottle of booze waiting for you. That's what he said, it's so stupid that I care about that but it's a port in the storm, and any of those will do. I just need to wait a little longer, and it will all work out. I can do that, I know I can. I'm doing it for my friends.

Clint took the lead of our little line again as we crossed the street, and he looked so calm about it. His face held edge of a scowl, but I know him well enough to know thats just how his neutral expression was, and he just looked toward either side of traffic long enough to avoid catching the front end of a car and walked across like he wasn't hiding a gun in his pocket.

After we cleared three of the four lanes he looked back over his shoulder at me, and I tried to smile. Then I tried not to cry. His face wasn't just resting in the semblance of a scowl, it started turning into one before he looked back toward the road.  _He couldn't even smile back at me. It's all fucked up. I just want this to be over._

I almost started walking too fast again, but Duncan's hand tightened a little on my shoulder and when I looked up he disguised the worried behind a convincing smile for the traffic and shook his head a little. I wished I could do the same, but I knew better, so instead I let the cotton of Duncan's long rolled up sleeve become my cheeks new best friend. That made his hold turn to less of a restraining one, and more of a comforting one as we finally reached a part of the city with houses and yards. _I just need to wait a little longer, and it will all work out. I can do that, I know I can. I'm doing it for my friends._


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SIXTY ONE

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0937 HOURS

WINONA DRIVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

 NORA

* * *

  _I hate this place._  Nora isn't, or wasn't the kind of person who would have a thought like this, but 'I' am.  _I hate these people._

_I hate Carmel, Indiana, its people are idiots._ We walked across that street, and the people did exactly what we wanted them to. They didn't look at us, and I HATE them for it. I'm covered in blood and nobody noticed, one mother even batted her son's hand back down when he clearly pointed me out, because she was too busy talking on her cell phone.

That boy was a good boy, but I can't help but think his mother is a piece of shit, and I don't even regret it. That's not a 'Nora' thought, I don't even know who that thought belongs to, but I don't want to think about it, and Duncan's arm is more than willing to help me focus on something else.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0938 HOURS

WINONA DRIVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

DUNCAN

* * *

 She shook for a second, but by the stiff set I could see at the angle of her jaw told me it probably had nothing to do with tears, and honestly I don't care too much what the cause of it was, because in the next second she pressed herself even closer to my side.  _If she was willing to cling to me for comfort I sure as hell wasn't going to do anything to drive her away._

We kept walking, past the parking lot entrance of a small home improvement store before we were flanked on either side by rows of cookie cutter houses from decades past, and yards that touch a curbless street. We walked past it's oblivious residence to an intersection, and on further still almost to the end of a T junction with Oswego Rd before we found a spot to stop.

We needed a set of wheels, and we were being picky about the color. When you're on the run technically anything with an engine and four inflated wheels is your friend, but if your friend is bright red or a minivan it's not a very reliable friend.

We didn't want a car with a sharp color, or a sports car because they attract attention, and we also didn't want a van because they don't do well if we have to go off pavement, a truck was also out because there we three of us. Then we found a yard with a grey Honda Civic, and grey is the best color, because nobody sees grey anything. It's like the ultimate urban camouflage.

The place we found it at is perfect too. It's parked in the wrap around gravel driveway, which is in the backyard of the house, and most of the windows on that side are high on the wall and narrow. Not that it matters because even the ones that are bigger have curtains in them, which to our luck are closed and prevent anyone who might be in the house from catching a glimpse of us stealing their car.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0943 HOURS

WINONA DRIVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

 

Now that we are a step away from putting rubber on the road I let myself relax just a little and taking another breath to reinforce my walls I venture another look at the pair behind me.

The merc/agent/whatever he really is, he is helping her sit down on our side of a small picket fence in the middle of the curved gravel driveway. She is clinging to his forearm with a shakily smothered wince as he leans down to help so she doesn't fall the whole way. The skinned state of her feet, and exhaustion has her standing on stiff shaky legs.  _My little Princess, her endurance was the size of a kiddie pool, but she always made up for it with an ocean of determination._

Even injured, scared, confused, and heartbroken she still has that determination I love, but I know I'm testing the limits of its horizon. I can see tear lines on her cheeks again and I'm pretty damn sure I know what put them there.  _"WHERE IS MY BABY YOU BASTARD?! WHERE IS SHE?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY BABY?!"_

She remembered being a mother to a daughter, and then she let me convince her to run away from the one person she thinks might be able to reunite her with her baby, because she loves me too, because I'm her goddamned 'brother'.  _God, I hate that privilege so much right now I can almost taste the bile on my tongue, because I sure as hell don't deserve it._

"Hey." My first words are directed to her new 'friend', and by his expression my voice is just as unwelcome as I thought it would be, but I don't give a shit. "Get us in the car, you're gonna be our driver." And before he can make the protest I know he's going to make I add. "I'm a better shot, I'm taking shotgun."

That stills his tongue before it starts moving because it comes with another message in the subtext. Nora is getting the whole backseat to herself, both for cover and a well deserved break. That knowledge that I'm not trying to cut in on his time with the hot chick makes him cooperate and that actually makes me hate him a little more. Because Nora is so much more than a pretty catch to fight over. I shake it off though by the time I let my face fall back in her line of sight. She doesn't need to see that hate.

"Hey, Princess." She sniffles a little at that greeting but tries to offer me a smile, so I return one too, not letting any of my broken heart slip through the cracks. "You did great, I'm so proud of you, you know that right?" She offers me another wet nod that makes me want to just hug her, but I'm still following the old rules for her sake, so all I do is give her shoulder a gentle but firmly reassuring squeeze. "That's my girl. How are your feet?" She doesn't give me any words, but the way her eyes avert from mine and her neck sinks down between her shoulders makes a pretty loud statement of its own.

"Hey, no. Don't be ashamed that you're in pain okay? What you did was amazing, even Natasha would bitch about running on bleeding feet okay?" The mention of Natasha, whether it was because she did better than our red head, or just the mention itself, makes a hiccupping sob bubble out of her. But whether it's happy, sad, or angry I can't tell, and just looking at her tells me she won't be offering any clarification even if I ask. So I plow on, going with something that I'm sure she will agree with too.

"I want to re-tie your feet, can you handle if I do that really quick?" The strips of bloody green silk are still tied around her ankles and stretched under the arch of her feet, but because its silk, all the running wore it away beneath her heels and the balls of her feet. It won't be much but at least it will keep some of the air off her scraps so they don't sting as bad until we can stop and really do something about her injuries.

I'm racking my brain for any by the hour motel this side of the state I can think of. Luara would probably kill me if she knew I had a mental list of hooker hotels by state in my head, not that I ever used that knowledge for that. They just make for good emergency safe havens if you can't reach a safe house and need to regroup for a second. Hell, I might even let her because I can't believe I'm really thinking of taking my 'sister' to one with another guy.  _Goddamn it, how'd this happen?!_

"O-okay." Her voice and her word sort of toss me for a second, because while I was trying to scrub the grimy feeling out of my brain I forgot I asked her a question for a second, but only for a second. I make quick work of the knots around her ankles, and offer her a small apologetic smile each time the tacky blood and dirt mixture makes the silk tug painfully to her raw skin as I pull them off. Then they get a quick wash with some water from my new 'buddy's' canteen he tossed me, and some vigorous scrubbing before I wring them back out as tightly as I can.

I make a quick apology before I put them back on, because the water is going to sting her broken skin a little, but it will mean a little less blood in the back seat. Not that it matters too much though, because if I'm being honest even if Nora wasn't bleeding, our safest bet would still be to burn the car when we ditch it. Nora's not human, and S.H.I.E.L.D has been collecting samples from her for three years, not to mention the fact they have mine too.

After that I have to leave her for just a second. I don't know what this idiot is doing but he still hasn't gotten in the car! I don't even know how that's possible since I can see a standard issue MI-6 credit card car lock pick sheath resting on the hood of the car. If he is MI-6 then lock picking is a cadet level skill, but he keeps shaking his head like he can't concentrate. Maybe I kicked him too hard afterall.

However we don't have time for him to figure it out, so I just fall back on the skills I learned in my not so storybook adolescence and let my hand make a quick sweep of the wheel wells on my side, grinning when they bump into something. God bless the dumbasses in the world who use hide-a-keys.

"Hey." His eyebrows arch in confused annoyance as I call for his attention, then just annoyance as I toss him something and his eyes register the object he just caught in his hand. "Don't start her till we're in 'kay?

I may have ended it like a question but I don't even have the willpower to pretend I care if he answers. Instead I'm moving back over to Nora. She is still sitting where I left her, her face hidden from my view as she currently has it tucked behind her knees. Her right hand, the one decorated the heaviest with cuts and slivered is clenched so tightly I can see white knuckles past the blood and the scattered blades of grass peeking past her fingers. She's probably trying to overcome the pain with pressure now that the adrenaline finally faded and she can really feel the pain again.

"Nora?" Her response all but confirms it. I barely finished saying her name and already I can hear her whisper earnestly.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." But I don't have the time or the heart to tell her how deep those words cut, so instead I go with the kinder/crueler route of humoring her as I kneel down next to her

"Of course you are Princess, you're my little trooper." That compliment makes her shake with yet another indistinguishable sob, but this time she makes it clearer quickly.

"I-I ca-can't get up." She admits, her voice dripping with disappointment and shame, as if she has any reason to blame herself for that problem. The idea that Loki broke her down so much she is actually ashamed with herself for succumbing to the pain makes me so pissed I want to punch a hole in something.  _This is my fault._

"It's okay Princess." I whisper back, breaking my rule for a second and ruffling her hair gently, before I shift my position a little to make this easier on both of us. "I'm strong enough to carry your weight, you just relax now and let me do it." She has no reason to trust me but my little miracle does anyways, all but her white knuckled hand loosening a little, in a silent sign of permission for me to pick her up.

When I said I had enough strength to carry her weight I wasn't just talking about pounds. If she would let me I'd shoulder everything for her from now on, I owed her so much more then that, but I could give her that much. Even with that being said she did test my words a little.

I've never held Nora, she couldn't be touched after all. However I've held other people to recognize how much someone should strain your arms at different weights, and since I saw Nora's physical results each time I knew how much she was supposed to weigh. But while she doesn't look any bigger, she feels like she is 30 pounds heavier somehow. It confirms my earlier suspicion that whatever Loki's plans for her was involved restoring her to her prime, and whatever he was doing to her behind that door was overcoming the drugs we gave her to keep her muscular density down.

I'm both happy about that because if she is getting stronger she'll have a better chance of defending herself from him, or anyone he sends after us if something happens to me. Hell she'll have a better chance of defending herself from me if he turns me on her again. But I'm also worried, because of S.H.I.E.L.D. If they find out she isn't as controllable anymore and she isn't willing to cooperate, which she is loosing reasons to by the second, they might just decide to get rid of a problem before it becomes one, god knows the idea isn't new.

But I have her curled up in my arms, and as long is she is there, not a damn thing is going to touch her. Not even pretty boy if he opens the door and offers to help. One shake of my head and the look in my eyes has him clenching his jaw and following my instructions to get in the damn driver's seat, the bastard shutting the door a little louder then he should for a carjacking.

It's a little awkward putting a full grown woman in a car seat, even one as short as Nora, but I manage it, and after most of Nora is inside she manages to shift her legs in the rest of the way by herself, which is for the best because blood isn't really a barrier.

After watching her offer me another wet smile and start to lay down on the slightly worn grey pleather of the back seat I make myself walk away from her for the few seconds it takes me to get into the front passenger side seat, my mind preparing itself for the possibility of what I might have to do if someone chases us as I buckle in and close my door.

Then my thoughts do an 'about face', and so do his, because the half count of the sound of a car door following the latching sound of mine. There's Nora's blood in the back seat, but no Nora, and her door is open!  _Dammit Nora! No!_


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SIXTY TWO

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0948 HOURS

WINONA DRIVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

I tried for Clint. I was so mad at him at first. I was mad at the idea that Clint knew, that he knew all along and he kept me in the dark about my own child, and I'm still not sure if I believe he didn't or I just want to believe him because there is three years of trust and friendship that not even a revelation as big as the fact he lied to me can't shake off.

I tried for Clint's children. If the weight wasn't heavy before it was now that he dropped another mountain on my shoulders with that one. Clint had a kid, two kids, a son and a daughter, and a wife too I guess. I didn't think Clint was married, but sometimes I suspected there was someone. Before he went on a mission, he always called someone, and if it wasn't for the fact that a few times he was going on the mission with Natasha, I might have been sure that the person on the other end of the line was her. He never told me who but I always got the feeling it was probably a girlfriend. But I never pushed harder then some light teasing when I caught him making these phone calls because I knew if Clint didn't tell me it's because he had a good reason.

I tried for Duncan. For Alexander Pierce Jr. I should have recognized him, the only difference being he was less tan and had more hair, but there was no way in hell I was going to recognize him, not as scared as I was trapped in that room. I remember being so grateful to that STRIKE captain for stopping his subordinates harassing behavior. I wanted to thank him somehow, but I couldn't decide what would be appropriate, and eventually as time moved on I forgot about him entirely. Then he was here, first as a friendly stranger, then as my anchor to sanity, and then as an ally helping me escape.

But I didn't want allies, and I didn't want to escape. I kept moving because they were my friends and I knew if I stopped they would die. I knew that without a doubt, so I tried. In the tunnels, in the theater, in the streets, I just kept telling myself I was doing it for my friends, just a little longer for my friends. I kept trying until I saw something small in the grass.

They sat me down against the inside part of that decorative fence and they started getting the car ready, I saw it before Clint came over to me and I hid it so tightly in my hand it hurt. It was some little girl's happy meal toy barbie, forgotten and abandoned in the grass. There were probably other toys scattered around this yard too, since there was a swing and slide set on the other side of the shed.

I don't think they saw it, either of them, or if they did, they didn't realize what that would do to me.

I tried, I did, I tried so hard to make myself go with them. But I knew myself better than that and I knew I wasn't being honest. I waited until Clint started around to the other side I took the door handle in my hand and tugged on it, letting the latch slide open as quietly as I could without actually pushing the door out, then as soon as he was contained by the front seat I threw my own door open and started to run!

I didn't want to leave them, they were going to be so angry with me for this, but that stupid cheap barbie ruined everything! I knew I only had one chance, and if I didn't take it right now, I'd never get another one.  _I'm_   _sorry, I'm so sorry!_

I'm running like hell, there's no real plan, or direction, I'm just running a slightly different way than the way we came, hoping that by cutting through people's yards I can either avoid being seen or attract so much attention that Clint wont think it's worth the risk of following me.

That's why I waited until they were in the car, until they had a getaway vehicle. I knew Clint wouldn't just let me go like he had too, like I wanted him to. I told him to leave me behind in that damn 'hospital room'. I told him to just leave me behind and take Erik instead, to just get out alive. But instead he took me, the one person Loki would never stop looking for, and this time nothing I said would stop Loki from killing them for it.

It's why I push my muscles even harder as I hear one of their doors slam behind me. I can't stop. Not for the pebbles or dirt digging painfully into the bottom of my raw feet, not for the branches lashing at my cheeks and arms as I sprint between a row of spaced out bushes, and definitely not for the chance that I might have just heard my name!  _Don't follow me, please don't follow me!_

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0948 HOURS

WINONA DRIVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

_It was going so well, it was going too well._  I knew it felt too easy, this escape, and I was just waiting for things to get difficult because nothing ever runs this smoothly for this long.  _But I didn't think the trouble would come from her, not after we made it so far!_  With each step that separated us from Loki my concern that she might change her mind shrank.  _I mean, a daughter..._  but she kept on walking on those blood feet, silent and without complaint unless you count those tears. She even let me put her in the backseat!

_But then she ran, and my fucking seat belt took her side and tried to tie me down until I cut myself free from it!_ In the second longer it took me to get out, the MI-6 guy was already out of his seat too, but instead of running right after her like he should have he is distracted by our now other problem. The back door of the house sliding open abruptly with a loud thud and the emergence of some pissed off middle aged man.  _Fuck!_

"STAY HERE! WE NEED THIS CAR!" I don't have time to think about it, or be any more specific in those instructions then that, because I have my little sister to catch, before she does what I think she is doing and runs back to an alien sociopath!

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0949 HOURS

WINONA DRIVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

DUNCAN

* * *

"STAY HERE! WE NEED THIS CAR!" He didn't waste any time chasing after her, his departure sort of trapping me here since I wasted time being distracted by the shifting of the vertical plastic curtains when the owner looked out the slider door.

The guy walking toward me with a bad attitude and a baseball bat isn't really anything special. He is a semi in shape thirty something year old with short brown hair, wearing a white tank top, some shorts that look like a black and blue version of the american flag with some plaid strips, and a pair of flip flops.

He becomes even less special as his eyes go wide half a second before his head snaps back from the force of the silencer round as it bores through his forehead, his body falling back stiffly like a tree, an oily looking pool forming a dripping halo around the man's head from where he lands on the wooden steps of his back porch.

The thing that does catch my though with a frustrated sigh is the shrill squeak that followed the first inch of his fall back, and the stuttered shutting of the back door.  _Great. Children._ Sparring on more glance around to make sure none of his neighbors are stupid enough to step out on to his back porch I decide its safe enough to step away from the car for a second.

I can't help the huff of amusement when my hand tests the door. I was completely prepared to break the door to get in, but it doesn't look like I have to.  _This kid must be really young if they didn't even think to lock the door._  With that thought in mind I check my pocket for what I have in the way of tranquilizer. Nora wouldn't be happy with me if she found out I killed a kid.

There is one more pause before I step across the threshold, closing the door quietly and sliding the vertical curtains back in place, twisting them closed. There is a large dog bed next to the door so it looks like I'm not putting the silencer away just yet. I hate dogs in situations like this, they're so loud. _Now then, if I was a dumb kid, where would I hide?_

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0950 HOURS

WINONA DRIVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

_Oh shit!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have one question for everybody, in regards to Duncan. "You didn't see that coming?"


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER SIXTY THREE 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0950 HOURS 

WINONA DRIVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

The sweat and tears were burning my eyes as much as the hot gravel of road before my feet left them for the cool but cutting grass of the yards. I blame my lack of noticing them quick enough on that, if had I seen them I wouldn't have screamed out his name or anything at all.

I just wanted to be found again before it was too late, but I wanted to be found by Loki, not by the five sets of surprised eyes dressed in camouflage tactical gear!

I cut between an Aces hardware and a small strip mall of restaurants, the line of trees giving me a little cover from sight until I cleared them that is and was standing on the black top of a parking lot.

They were in the parking lot, but the sight and sound of me drew their attention enough to make the man driving the army humvee stop, and while their surprise gave me a second to turn around and try to run the away, but I also lost that second when the slickness of bloody silk against grass made my foot fly out from beneath me, slowing my attempt at escape.

I don't know if it was the fact I was running away from, the fact that I was clearly injured, or something else that motivated the first pair of boots to sound against the ground behind me but I didn't care. They were going to keep me from getting back to the man with answers about my daughter, and add to the body count one way or another so all I cared about was trying to get away!

Catching enough of my weight to keep my chest from hitting the ground too, despite the fact my bloody palms slide against the grass I immediately start scrambling to get back to my feet but the effort fails at about half way to upright when the fastest one tackles me by the waist.

Having the weight of a grown man in armor and gear crash into the small of my back hurt, but I can't decide if it hurt more then my momentum driven skid across the cement as my body caught the weight of both, knocking the breath out of me and driving stars into my eyes as my head bounced off the curve of the curb.

The ringing distorted my hearing like water did, but it cleared up quick enough for me to hear the last half of his shout clearly. ". ...! ...'. ..T A GUN!"

His hands must of felt its bulk under Duncan's jacket where it was holstered in a bulletproof vest and he shouted for his friends to help restrain me before I had a choice to use it against him. Not that really have, even if I had remembered I had it all. In my panic I totally forgot I had that option available to me, or I did a second ago.

Still desperate to get away from everyone so dead set on stopping me I try to get my bleeding arms back under me and push myself back up but now that he knows I have a weapon he is having even less of my actions and crushing my wrist he jerks it away from its resting spot with the concrete, jerking it up between my back and his chest, and making my ability to balance our weight impossible, sending me back down and getting the wind knocked out of me again from the weight on my back.

By the time those stars cleared from my eyes they had enough hands and time to physically lift me up off the parking lot. By now I had all but the last out of the five around me so my continued struggles didn't get me anywhere, but that didn't stop me from trying.

The one who tackled me was the one who was holding most of my weight up, his arm crushing the space right below my ribs as he kept his grip tight enough to keep me from freeing the one arm he did have pinned. The fact he wasn't able to restrain both himself really didn't matter though because one of his friends easily caught the other while a third of their number set out to contain my legs. After I managed to kick him in the crotch a fourth made all of their jobs a lot easier by sucker punching me so hard in the stomach I think my spine bruised my organs.

With my ability to breath severely compromised from that pain and the unrelenting pressure against my chest the trip over to the humvee was a lot calmer, but apparently my lack of struggling in those seconds didn't earn me anything close to a reprieve even though it gave them a chance to tie my wrists with something plastic.

When I tried to lift my sore torso even an inch off the hood of the humvee and stop balancing my weight on my tip toes from the height difference my reward was one of them grabbing me by the hair and slamming my face back into the hot metal, the tacky dampness telling me they split my cheek in the process. It got even better as the same hand then jerked my head back up and the sound of something rustling in the breeze caught my attention before a sentence captured it completely with terror and despair. "Yeah, it's her. Welcome to the custody of the U.S Army Miss Elaine. Put her in the back."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0950 HOURS 

WINONA DRIVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

CLINT 

* * *

I always knew Nora had it in her to scream, I heard it enough when I watched the recordings of her waking up from her nightmares. She'd fling herself up off her bed with such a sound, and then she'd crumble to the floor sobbing because she was still riding that fear adrenaline high but she couldn't remember what it was that scared her so damn much.

Hearing that sound again, unfiltered by a recording, and suddenly broken off and muffled only makes it that much more painful and infuriating. Whatever made her scream cut itself off was some kind of outside force, and when I find out what did it was going to pay.

Turns out that what's going to pay is five very unlucky men from the Indianapolis Army Reserve because they made the uneducated mistake of putting their hands on my baby sister. It's regrettable because I know they are just doing their job, and I didn't want Nora to ever have to see this side of my life, but I have this burning in my head that has nothing to do with my need to get her the hell out of there, and when the first poor bastard raises his hand to strike her again he doesn't get to raise it very far.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0950 HOURS 

WINONA DRIVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I saw the blow coming, I was expecting it to come, I was even trying to squirm out of the way to avoid it but it didn't connect! There was just this wet impact sound a split second before the man about to hit me started screaming in pain and falling over his hands clutched at his head with the sight of a knife handle protruding past his fingers out of his ear!

Then everything just goes crazy around me!

I can hear boots pounding across the pavement and then the man who had been holding me is suddenly no longer there, and my body is falling without any grace! My back erupts in another current of pain when I land my one hands, arms, elbows and shoulders take all of my weight on them with the reappearance of gravity again.

But I'm not alone in my fall! The one who was holding me is falling with me too! His left leg is suddenly not underneath him and his body takes him face first into the the concrete because his hands aren't quick enough to catch him since they were in the middle of trying to bring up his gun!

The next one isn't loosing his feet as easily though. One of them is running towards me again to catch me before I can try to escape and he is almost on top of me. He doesn't get that far though! A body in black clothes stops him, a body I know! One of Clint's hands shoots out toward the soldier's throat before there is something gleaming red wetly running down his throat, and Clint's other hand is driving a knife into his stomach!

"NORA! CLOSE YOUR EYES!" My ears hear those words but my mind doesn't understand them at all, and my body doesn't even know how to obey them. It just keeps looking at what is happening, wide-eyed and shaking as Clint keeps going!

He rips the knife from the now falling soldier's stomach like it had no resistance and whirls around, twisting at his hips and slashing another throat, this time one of a man who was foolish enough to try to run up on him! It's so close I can feel the blood hitting my skin! People are dying, and they're dying right above me!

Another tries to get to Clint, to catch him and stop him too! The knife swings down and arcs back up this time, catching the soldier under his armor and driving into the flesh behind his ribs and deeper into his heart! Clint's knife moves with so much momentum it lifts him off his feet and he slams him onto his back, the man's body bouncing as his legs fall limply behind his skull before the rest of him lands too.

The one that lost his footing is back up again, but he is falling again too just as quickly. Clint's arm is outstretched and empty but there is an inch of the knife sticking out were a man's eye should be and I swear I can still hear someone crying!

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

0950 HOURS 

WINONA DRIVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

CLINT 

* * *

_Calm down Barton! Calm the fuck down!_  I'm trying so hard to order my body to relax, trying to command my heart to stop beating so quickly and make the adrenaline in my blood burn out by sheer force of will, but it isn't working! That wired feeling isn't going away, that wish to hurt things, that 'thing's' hunger isn't going away! It's weaker than me now, this thing that took control of me but it's not gone yet! I can feel its hunger fighting me for control, I've felt it fighting me this whole time! 'It' isn't satisfied with five kills, 'it' wants more, 'it' wants her again!  _No! Dammit! No! You don't get her! You never get her!_

She is right there, right next to me, and she is looking at me! She was looking the whole time! She was looking the whole time!  _I need to get my control back._ But then I realize I can still hear the sound of life. I left one alive, and it doesn't take me long to realize its the poor bastard with the knife in his ear canal.  _Don't look at me Nora, please. I_ can get rid of this hunger with him and keep her safe from me.  _Don't listen Princess, don't look._

Her eyes are so wide, filled with tears, and she is shaking as she keep looks at me. She is shaking so hard. Even her breath is shaky, it's coming out so fast I don't think she is even breathing in completely! She's going to hyperventilate at this rate, and that worries me. I don't try to stop her though. It might be better if she faints. I really don't want her to be awake right now.  _I don't want her to see my eyes._ _But I know she already has._

I can tell by the way she is struggling now that I'm moving closer to her. Her body trying to roll over and so she can get back on her feet as I move toward her! She is crying, I can hear the whimpering echo behind the tape on her mouth before it rises into a scream as I catch her by the waist, putting her over my shoulder and restraining her legs and body when she tries struggles so hard to kick me and throw herself off me!

The door of the Humvee is still open, and it is exactly where I plan to put her. I don't know what became of our third party but I don't have time to drag her struggling back to that yard and he isn't here so I set her down as carefully as I can in the back seat. I know she is in pain, thanks to them there are new injuries on her too. Thinking about those men hurting her only makes the hunger of that 'thing' stronger.

Gritting my teeth I try to shake it off. I regret that reaction right away as I hear her voice let out another whimper and see her eyes fixed on my face.

She is terrified of me again, and she has every right to be. I just killed four men right in front of her and it didn't even take me twenty seconds! She thinks I'm not her Clint anymore, and why shouldn't she, when I know I have 'its' glowing eyes again.

The monster who wears the skin of her friend, that's what she sees right now when she looks at me. That's what she wants to retreats from. The moment my hands are no longer holding her legs she is doing just that, scooting backwards oblivious to the blood from her injuries smearing across the seat divider as she tries to get as far away from me as possible. All she wants to do is get away from me; she either doesn't remember or care that she can't get the door open with her hands like that.

"I'm so sorry Princess." Her eyes widen even further hearing those words and that tone, and I can hear her breath stop before I close the door trapping her inside.  _I'm doing this to keep her safe. I_ _won't let this man scream again, she won't hear a sound of what I'm about to do to him._ It's only going to take me twenty seconds, I can give 'it' enough with just twenty seconds.


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0953 HOURS

E 126TH ST

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

There's blood smeared on the steering wheel. Even after wiping my hands off on his clothes I couldn't get all the blood off because there wasn't enough dry material left of his uniform and I didn't have anymore time to waste. I knew there were civilians cowering inside that Domino's Pizza and they had their phones out, but they were a kind of innocent I wasn't gonna touch.

I didn't even want to kill those army reserve boys, they were innocent too and only doing their job. I couldn't let them take Nora in though so I'll shoulder the weight of that because it was MY choice. I made it, not some blood thirsty monster or someone brainwashing, me, and I'll make my amends for that later.

I'll most definitely make amends for the bloody strip of fabric with the name LOWELL sewn on to it that is currently balled up inside my pocket. If he had people, I'll make sure they are taken care of, it's the least I can do after what I did.

I said Nora wouldn't hear him scream, and I made sure of that when by severing his vocal cords before I filled the next nineteen seconds.

Fury once said that a woman with the right story was my kryptonite, and that bastard just had to be right. I will do all sorts of horrible things for a woman in need.

I did it for Laura back before we got married and were just dating. Her ex owed a loan shark a whole lot of money, but even losing his house couldn't clear his debt so the shark sent three thugs to Laura's door. One died when I broke his neck. One died in the ambulance from head trauma. Then the third died from blood loss because he was so high on heroin that he didn't feel the pain when I cut him, and because Laura was behind me I had to keep cutting him.

I did it for Natasha, Natalia, a kid little more than thirteen sighted in beyond the fletching of my arrow. The 'Black Widow' just an alias and a threat to national security that had to be eliminated. It took four days for me to run her down, the constant unrelenting pursuit defeating her more than skill. I didn't give her a chance to stop for food or rest, and once her employers realized she had been made they abandoned her as a lost cause, which meant if she went back they would kill her too just to keep me from following her trail to them. She was sitting in an alley with her eyes closed, waiting for me to finish my mission. Instead I turned a homeless girl into a woman with new purpose.

I did it for Nora too. When she woke up the first thing she did was scare the World Council, because despite the fact a person who had been in a coma for 60 years should barely have the muscular strength to tear paper, she managed to snap a man's arm like a twig before they tied her back down and sedated her. So because we had no idea what she would be capable of, let alone what she even was, the Council ordered Fury to put an assassin on her and he chose me. I was restricted from field work due to an injury at the time, and the Council was pleased with the choice because my body count and my mission count matched.

But Fury never really did things the council's way, and it didn't take me long to realize he had his own motives in choosing me over any of the other specialists. He was the one who recruited me off death row, and knew I killed those men to protect a woman, just like he knew I defied my orders to protect a slightly younger woman. He was hoping for a repeat of history.

By putting me in charge of her he was hoping I would make decisions with her well being taken into consideration. He didn't have anymore of a clue what she might become then the council did, but he knew that HYDRA thought she was something special, and if what made her special came back someday he wanted it for S.H.I.E.L.D, but you can't recruit a corpse, no matter how gifted it might be.

I did what Fury wanted, I did it for almost three years, and somewhere in there it stopped being done because it's what Fury wanted and started being done because it was what I wanted. She called me her friend, she called me her brother, she called me her goddamned hero! Me, a friggin assassin!

Somehow I became a cornerstone in her world, and nothing could make her budge on that. Even when she learned exactly what the word assassin meant, she didn't turn away from me. She actually defended me when people talked about me. It didn't matter that most of it was true. She had no fear of me, and then I gave her a reason to be afraid.

I never followed my gut and told her the truth because I knew the Council would turn S.H.I.E.L.D on her if they found out, I left the door wide open for Loki to walk through, and he used me to do it.

She had no idea what I was capable of, until I showed both her eyes and her flesh just how dangerous an assassin really is. That's what following my orders got us, guilt, fear, and betrayal. So I'm done with that shit. I hated it even when I was doing it.  _No more lying, and no more S.H.I.E.L.D. Not for her._ I don't know where I'm going to take her, but I'm not taking her back to that, she deserves better than a life that was probably gonna end with her 'brother' notching an arrow to put in her heart.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0958 HOURS

HAZEL DELL PKWY

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

I can barely breath past the tape; I'm crying so hard but I can't stop and I don't even want to!  _I couldn't do it!_  I couldn't run fast enough to get away from Clint, I couldn't get back to Loki, I couldn't defend myself from those men. _I can't do anything right!_

I just wanted to get away from Clint so his daughter would never have to lose her father, and to get back to the father of my own daughter, but instead I just got five men killed and brought back the 'man' who shot out my door and started all of this. Or did I?

'Clint's' eyes were glowing just like they did in the shadows of my entryway, but even though I kicked and struggled against him as he picked me up, he didn't punish me for it. It wasn't like before when he hit me to make me stop struggling. I was so scared I wasn't really acknowledging it, but I was still aware of the way he cradled the back of my head to keep it from hitting the door frame when he put me in the back of the humvee. But that wasn't what really made me question who I was dealing with. It was the sad expression in the glowing eyes as he called me Princess.

That's what has me unable to catch my breath, not everything that happened before or the way my bound wrists are caught on something and the position makes it uncomfortable to inhale. Nope, one word. Clint's word. It's what he calls me when he is really worried. I don't even think he realizes it's the only time he does it, and it breaks my fucking heart!

Even with that light burning behind his eyes, he is fighting for me, and even though I tried to run away from him! Clint, Duncan, they both treat me like I'm some kind of treasure and I hate it so much because I want them to act like they are treasures too!

_It can all stop any time now._  I can't even roll over because my wrists are still completely stuck on the black box bolted between the seats in the back, and my hips are stuck at an elevated angle from where they rest on top of it, but that doesn't stop me from turning my face and burying it in the crease of the seat.  _Please just let it stop._

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1004 HOURS

ALLISONVILLE RD

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

The sound of her sobs evolving into hiccuping makes me grip the steering wheel even tighter as I let my eyes close just as tightly for a second. I want so badly to be back there holding her through all the pain she is clearly feeling, but I know that I can't do anything better for her then what I am, which is keep driving.

I still haven't quite figured out what I'm gonna do. Not since I decided I wanted to do the impossible. Not only am I trying to keep her out of the hands of a 'god' but I also decided to keep her out of the hands of S.H.I.E.L.D, and that's probably going to be the harder of the too.

After all, once I get us far enough away, keeping her free from Loki will just be a matter of not staying anywhere for too long. S.H.I.E.L.D on the other hand though is already EVERYWHERE, and unlike Loki who may be far stronger than I could ever could be, are numerous, not one person!

So I need more people on my side too. I already know I can count on Natasha. As loyal as she has proven herself to be when it comes to S.H.I.E.L.D, she has always been a little more loyal to me, and to her ledger. She will definitely help me protect Nora, if I can get a hold of her without tipping off S.H.I.E.L.D somehow in the process.

There's another person I am pretty damn sure will help me too. I never actually met him in person, but I know how he feels about Nora, even if the awkward idiot doesn't seem to know it himself. When I teased Nora about being the Captain's girl I was only half kidding. I may not have been her active S.O since I was reassigned to the P.E.G.A.S.U.S base, but that didn't mean I wasn't kept informed. He took her her to an art garden, on New Year's Eve, and they watched the countdown on her phone with hot coffee and Hershey's kisses for shit sake!

If he isn't in love with her he at least loves her, and if he is standing with us the Council will think a little harder about hurting Nora. Even if the 'world' doesn't know about Captain America being in the world again, all of S.H.I.E.L.D does, and I can't think of an agent that wouldn't stand behind that red white and blue bastard, just breathing the same air as him makes you want to be a better person.

It's a huge risk that I'm taking, and I'm not oblivious to the fact that I'm not in it alone. It's not just Nora's life, and mine on the line. Going on the run from the Council like this does put some heat on my family too, but I'm just going to have to place my trust in Natasha with this one. She knows about my family, and I'm sure she is already keeping an eye on them since I went 'missing', so the Council won't be able to sneak one past her.

Now the next thing I need to do is get us off the grid, and the first step is to ditch these wheels. Turning onto E 106TH ST I quickly take us off the road into the trees of the woods. We are ditching the humvee, because eventually the army is going to start tracking this thing, and I got bigger plans than just sticking to the pavement for the rest of this trip. Those plans include Tarmac and a pair of wings.

Once we are deep enough into the trees to not be seen from the road, we reach the really difficult part. I find myself literally unable to pry my hands off the steering wheel for a moment, I want to skip this part so much. But after a second I man up and with a quick check I'm relieved to find my eyes glow free and make myself get out of the drivers seat.  _She is my sister, I can face her, even after that parking lot, I can face her._  My hand doesn't even hesitate on the door handle.


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1005 HOURS

E 106TH ST

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

My feet moved when the door opened, not because I willed them to but simply because the solidness of the door was no longer there to offer them any resistance.

Nothing else offered him any resistance either. Not my leg when his hand found the back of my knee, or the other one that rested on the part of my thigh just below my hip to keep the skirt from sliding up as he pulled me down the seat. Even the bindings on my wrist that stopped me so completely just moved away from what they caught themselves on as he guided me into a sitting position on the edge of the seat, slipping his arms beneath the bend of my legs and behind my back as they take over my weight and we abandon the backseat.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1005 HOURS

E 106TH ST

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

_She wasn't fighting me._  I should be happy about that, the fact she isn't resisting, but I'm not because this isn't cooperating this is just crushing resignation. She's just given up, she doesn't even have the will to open her eyes or breathe harder despite the fact I have my hands on her naked legs and arms as I make quick work of picking her up out of the back seat.

Even after I kneel down with her in my arms and set her on the ground against a tree, she doesn't bother trying to adjust herself into a more comfortable position when my arms slide free. And that's about as much as I can take.

"Nora?" Her name, and the concern I spoke it with gets me nothing. Her chin rests just as heavily against her collarbone, her eyes don't open, and her chest just continues its in its steady shallow rise and fall. Her damn hair doesn't even move in the breeze, tacky from blood and completing the image of a broken doll far too perfectly.

_Come on baby, give me something please._ "Princess?" Putting one of my hands against the column of her neck I tip her face up with a push from my thumb, wanting to hold her head in both my hands but thinking better of forcing that much skin contact on her. I want a reaction from her, but I don't want to make that reaction fear. "Come back Princess. I need you." A bead glistens free from between her eyelashes.

'There you are." I huff out, my lips stretching in an open mouthed expression of relief even though that glistening drop turns into a small stream, and she starts breathing out a struggling sob past a bloody nose and a band of grey tape.

That makes me reconsider my stance on cupping her face in both of my hands, and I do it to get her attention, smiling a little softer at the sight of those wet eyes opening for me. "I'm gonna take that tape off, but you have to swear you won't scream first okay?" And that sentence hurts us both, I can see it in the fresh ridge of tears that rise and spill over, and I know they exist for the same reason as the sense of betrayal lingering in my heart. She shattered my faith in her the second she ran from the back of that car.

And as much as I hate it, even though she nods yes with such intensity I still doubt it a little. As if her betrayal was any worse then mine, as if I have any right to feel betrayed after everything I did to her.

"Okay." But I make myself move past it. If she does scream, I'll put the tape back, and endure the guilt a little longer. I just need her to be safe, she can hate me as long as she safe. "Pull your lips in, it will hurt less. You ready? I'll pull on four?"

It takes her a second before she nods, which I can guess she worked her lips into as tight a line as the duct tape would allow.

Working an edge of the tape free I carefully free as many strand of her hair out of its sticky grasp as I can before I unwrap the rest of its stacked loop until I reach the part that connects to her actual skin. I pause there, to give her a questioning look and pressing my fingers over top of the split they put on her cheek so it doesn't tear the skin anymore then it already has been.

After the nod I surprise her by jumping the gun and pulling on the 't' sound of the two, because I knew she was going to tense up the farther I counted down. She let out a sharp cry the second the tape released her lips. "Y-you forgot three." This time the sound that fills the air is from me and its a chuckle.

_That's my girl._  I forget all about not touching her, I'm so happy and relieved to hear a small piece of the old her in that moment, even as broken and sad as she is, she tried to make a joke, and I love her so much for it. "I know, I'm sorry Princess." I offer back after a second, as I gently lean her back one hand coming up quickly to thumb away another tear before the salt water can burn its way into her broken skin. "Let me look."

I don't wait for her consent, even though I see her give me a small nod anyways. Her skin that was under the tape is now a rosier shade that wraps around from one side to the next and melds into her hairline at the back of her neck, while the part of her broken cheek that was under the tape is beading with a few fresher drops of blood; it isn't as bad as it could be. She's only going to need one stitch to close it back up. It's nothing compared to the rest of her skin.

The guilt hits me heavily again with that thought but I shove it behind the mask before it can even peek around those edges. I'm burning seconds I don't have here. "Okay sweetie, I'm gonna cut your hands free okay?"

Her answer is true Nora. "I won't run, I swear." She sniffles out, another wave of tears rising so thickly they distort my view of her eyes before the water tension breaks and they stream down her cheeks.

"I know you won't" I offer back, no smile or sadness on my face, just an expression of determination. "because I'm gonna carry you, Princess." I love her, but I can't trust her to do what's best for her, and her feet are still bleeding anyway.

Her reply was a hiccuped sound that came closest to 'Ahehn' and what ever it meant I didn't wait to find out. Instead I just pulled her forward by her shoulder, tucking her chin over the top on my left one, and praising her faith in me I made quick work of sliding the blade through the plastin of those zip tie cuffs.

My reward was her arms wrapping around my neck in a desperate hug, and even if I'm half concerned she might try to choke me in this position I view her hug as a blessing, because I know Nora, and I know how much a single touch from her was a minor miracle. So if she is going to embrace me, I'm gonna let her, and I'm gonna hold her too. My arms slipping behind her back and under her legs for support as I do what I said I was going to do, and lift her up out of the dirt to carry her out of this place.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1009 HOURS

E 106TH ST

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

DUNCAN

* * *

_The weather's not bad, its actually rather pleasant._  The temperature is somewhere between the high sixties and low seventies right now. The wind that is blowing is not that bad either, even up where I am.

After I killed the dog, I found the kid, a little girl, and pinning her down with a hand over her mouth I waited for the tranquilizer dart to kick in, then I dragged the dad's body back up the deck and left him just behind the closed wall of the vertical blinds. Someone will notice the blood on the bottom step of the deck eventually but they will notice that a later then they would notice a body.

Now I'm really just waiting, singing along to the nice Cat Stevens tune running through my head to pass the time.

"In the midnight moonlight hour I'll be walking a long and lonely mile, And every time I do, I keep seeing this picture of you."

I've taken up residence in a cell phone tower for the time being. It gives me a nice clear view of the sky. The sun isn't really out at the moment, scattered cloud cover hiding it while casting long shadows over the ground, but what is visible of that enormous burning rock in the sky is giving off enough heat to still feel warm against my skin when a beam falls over me in between the shadow of the clouds.

"Well, here comes my baby, here she comes now, Walking with a love, With a love that's oh so fine. Never to be mine, no matter how I try."

Its a pity though that we had to seperate. As lovely as the sunlight is after so many hours underground I doubt that Agent Barton is stopping to let her enjoy it too. But that problem will be solved soon enough since she is what I am really out here waiting to see.  _It shouldn't be too long now. Not if I guessed it right._

"You'll never walk alone, and you're forever talking on the phone I try to call you names, but every time it comes out the same."

Humming quietly I finish attaching the scope before unfolding the stock and testing that the cheek piece is in the right position before I adjust that too. The clip is the next thing I check, making sure all the bullets are lined up even in it, so it doesn't run the risk of jamming. The only thing left is dropping the stand down and getting into a comfortable position.

"Here comes my Lil Hen; here she comes now, And-a it becomes as no surprise to me with another guy." I murmur with a grin when my eyes look at the lines quartering my view of the world through my scope, eagerly waiting for the sight of something special to step into view.


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SIXTY SIX

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1011 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

Even though I'm in excellent shape this section of the escape is going to take at least 15-25 minutes, because I am carrying the weight of another 'human' in my arms, and I'm deliberately navigating around the nicely paved trails, because the last thing I need right now is some panicked hiker running off and calling the cops on some serial killer cannibal they saw in the woods. Then there's also the fact that I'm sort of exhausted.

She bought me several hours of sleep, which I both hate and love her for, but even with that the damn energy in me wouldn't let my consciousness shut down, and sleeping under the effect of sedatives isn't the greatest sleep in the world.  _No REM sleep for Agent Barton, no sir._  I wouldn't have wanted it anyways. Reality was enough of a nightmare, I wouldn't even want a glimpse of the terrible mess my subconscious would throw at me.

"What about Duncan?" Its a whisper, both because my baby sister has the good sense to keep her voice down out here, but also because her head was laying weakly on my shoulder next to my ear already.

Adjusting my fingers I grip her a little tighter as I swing one leg after another over a fallen tree in our path too long to bother going around. "Forget about him kiddo, we aren't going back for the fake ass Scottish pinata."

I expected some kind of protest, cause even if she is different now she wouldn't be Nora if she didn't object to leaving a man behind, but the 'protest' was pretty much out of the park. "But he's the Director's son."

I couldn't help it, I stopped and snorted out a chuckle.  _Was she serious?!_  There's no way. I mean sure, that merc may have told her some bullshit like that, but even stressed out as she was there's no way she should believe it. "Yeah, hate to break it to you Princess, there's not a woman white enough in the world for that to be Fury's boy."

"I... I meant the other Director." There's a note in her tone that makes it seem like my confusion isn't a surprise to her at all, like she expected I might not know what she was talking about right from the start, which she is right in that guess.

_Other Director?_  There is no other Director, unless you count the fact that Hill is competent enough to handle director level tasks from time to time. But Nora knows who Hill is, and has met her a few times, none of which she has ever referred to her as Director so I really doubt she would start now. There is only one other person I can think of that she might, but he doesn't go by that anymore. "Nora, you don't mean Pierce do you?"

My answer is the feel of a nod against my collar bone, which is followed by my mouth dipping into a tense frown. I like that undercover agent even less. I can't really be surprised that whoever he is he was familiar with Councilman Pierce, most everyone in any intelligence agency is familiar with the people sitting on the World Council in some way or another.

I want to write it off as a spy lying to get an in, but it's too much of a coincidence that he used it on someone he would have no way of knowing meet Pierce Sr, and while on record Pierce only has a daughter, I can't write it out, because on record, I have no children or a wife. That only gives me fuel to my fire of distaste. If he is Pierce's, then he knows. That means everything he did to win Nora's trust was for an agenda, and I don't care if Pierce has always been the closest thing to an advocate Nora had on the Council. He is S.H.I.E.L.D, and that's what I'm protecting her from now.

"If he's really Pierce's boy then it's even more of a no now. I guarantee his dad had him trained, and if he is any good, Princess he can take care of his own escape and catch up with us later."  _God, I really hope he isn't any good._

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1018 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

Clint was right, even if it was clear Clint didn't know Duncan. Duncan used to be the Captain of STRIKE after all, and while I was never high enough on the clearance scale to know anything particular about what they did I still knew what they did. They were given the body bag missions, the ones where they were not only allowed to have a high body count, but it was expected. And it was also expected that their own might be part of that count. They were not nice people, but they were very efficient in dealing out death.

Clint was good enough to be STRIKE too, except he preferred to go out of his way to limit his body count and that mindset didn't work well in their ranks.

I must have shivered or something because the arm Clint is holding me in shifts, and his hand finds a patch of skin that has no slivers, and starts rubbing it unconsciously as if he is trying to warm me up. It makes me lift my head a little to look at him, and catch his attention, as well as make him still his hand in a silent misinterpretation of my mood.

He doesn't give me a chance to tell him he didn't upset me though, instead he just asks me if I'm hungry, the idiot.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1020 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

"When we stop, I'll see what I can do about getting you a hot meal, would you like that?" I didn't mean to, but I got distracted, and I didn't realize I was rubbing my fingers over her upper arm in a what would normally be a comforting gesture, until I felt her muscles shift as she lifted her head off my shoulder to look at me. At first I thought she wanted to ask me a question, but then when all I got was a second of silence, I remembered the woman I held was still Nora.

I went with food for the same reason. Nora always liked to eat, cook, sample. Hell, she even would sit down and read a cookbook like it was an epic novel sometimes. Food was always a safe topic of interest, and even though I'm sure he fed her I never actually saw anyone bring food in there so I have no idea how well he fed her. Her answer isn't Nora at all though.

"No?!" Seeing the shock actually still me for a moment she shakes her head again, this time with a hint of a tug at the edge of her lips. "You'll pick something spicy again."  _Or maybe it's the most Nora thing it could possibly be._

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1022 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

He huffs a little at that, giving me a look that says he knows exactly what I'm doing, trying to use humor to distract him from his worry, but he is still going to let me do it, because it might distract me too. "What, I'm still not forgiven for the Jalapeno poppers? That I warned you against?"

He did. But I didn't believe him, and he didn't have the heart to forcibly keep me from trying something I was that curious about. I saw him pop at least seven in a row, just as quick as I'd seen other agents pop a handful of Skittles. I filled my mouth with three.

"Not sufficiently." I mutter back anyways, not really meaning it since I admitted it was my own mistake a long time ago, I'm just continuing the game.

"But Chinese princess, I introduced you to eggrolls. That doesn't get me anything?" He throws back, his brow rising even from the view this angle gives me. "You used Natasha to trick me."

"Yeah I did." He admits with a bit of smirk, recalling how since I was so determined not to talk to him after those Jalapeno's, he resorted to getting Natasha in on the effort. The second I realized he was in the room she took me to, I tried to turn around but she had already shut and locked the door and was holding out a plate of won'tons. "And you practically purred over the crab rangoons. We got video."

This time it's my brow that raises. "Oh yeah sweetie, you were so blissed you didn't even notice Nat had her phone up.." The mention of Natasha was meant to be light, but even after he says it he recognizes why it wouldn't be.

"Did she know too?" The guilt in his eyes answers, even more so when he looks away, but he still gives me the respect of actually saying it. "Yeah, Natasha knows the truth too.." And even though that makes me bury my face in his shoulder to the hide the tears he doesn't insult me by saying sorry. What they did is too big for an apology.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1025 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

It takes her a minute before I hear her voice again, almost missing my own name with how deeply buried she had it inside a hiccup. "Clint?"

"Yeah Princess?" I ask back, semi distracted by the task of moving a branch out of the way with my shoulder instead of un-occupying my hands for even a second. Though her question proves even more of a distraction, like a punch in the gut. "Does Steve know too?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1026 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

I can feel him stop, the branch he had been pushing aside with his shoulder snapping free under the strain and swaying aggressively but not dangerously to a still as he looks down at me at that question in disbelief. I can see the 'are you serious?' Just like he can see the 'yes I am.'

"No Princess. If there was one person on the planet we were never gonna tell, it was the Captain."  _Steve didn't know. Oh thank god Steve didn't know._  I knew Clint and Natasha much longer then Steve, but I guess somehow because I always knew they were agents it hurt less. Being good with lies and secrets was just something they did. Steve was supposed to be different. He was supposed to be up-front, direct, awkward and honest, and now that I know he really was again the relief hits so hard I want to cry.

"Only level 6 agents or higher got to know." He tacks on even though I didn't ask. It gives me even more clarification and relief. It explains why all the high level agents seemed to look down at me, like ward, or look at me too much, like Garret, and that lets a me know that when I had Doctor Who-athons in the lab with Fitz-simmons it wasn't a lie. "Thank you."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1028 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

She shakes with those words of gratitude, and I don't even think she realizes she does it, poor princess. "Don't thank me, you break my heart when you do that." And before she adds another sentence sure to widen the crack in my heart even more I warn her off it too. "Don't apologize either. Answers aren't supposed to be a gift, Princess."

_God her eyes are so wet when I make mine lock with them for this part._  "You're getting the truth from now on, I'll tell you everything I know, and what I don't we will go find okay? I promise you that. Fuck the the world yeah, it's just you and me."

"Nat and Steve." She whispers out, making me snort a little before I hoist her shoulders a little higher and press a careful kiss over her hair. "Nat and Steve too then. Whatever you want Princess."

"T-tea would be nice." She requests too, in a moment of serious as well is too further the amusement. Which it does, but I also fixate a little on the shiver in that first word. Even though its a May afternoon and about 65 degrees, we are walking in shadows, and she is in damp clothes with a Northern breeze. "You like Chai right? I'll get you some princess, you just relax now, we'll be out of here soon okay?"

Her response is a lack of a protest as I adjust my grip to draw her a little closer to me, trying to minimize the surface area the cool breeze can reach her, even though I can reduce it by a few inches at best. Soon I'll be able to do more.

Up ahead I can see the trees thinning and the grass flanking our destination. The goal was always to get a pair of wings. Traveling on the ground gave S.H.I.E.L.D and their allies too many opportunities to spot our faces, so a plane was always going to be part of this cobbled together plan.

I knew there were a few small airfields around here for private planes, the kind that don't usually exceed four seats, and if I'm really lucky we can find one of those, because then Nora can stretch out and get some actual sleep during the flight. God knows the chance to just turn it all off for a while is gonna be a welcome treat for her.

The lock on the hangar door is going to be an annoyance, but not much more then that. This place isn't big enough that I have to worry about bypassing any electrical locks, and even though I'll have to trust her not to run off again, I am not too worried because I never met a padlock I couldn't crack in a few seconds.

No, I'm more worried about my ability to guess which of these roll up security doors might have a stack of blankets behind them, or even a pair of clean coveralls if luck is on our side. Between the blood and the tearing, that dress is ruined and I can't stand having her in it anyways because I know who put her in it. I want to leave all of Loki behind us.

But suddenly all my thoughts shift to what's in front of us, and it's not a destination or an object. It's the sensation of fire that rips through my leg as it steps out past the treeline.

Their only focused on the knowledge that I can feel the muscles of the left leg buckle despite my desire for them to hold us up gives out under our combined weight, as well as the strain of me twisting around to put my back between her and the sniper I was too stupid to see sooner.

The shock that widens Nora's pretty eyes turns to pain when her body hits the dirt a half a second before round two burns into my shoulder blade.

It starts me in a spin, with my injured leg unable to work up strength to withstand the force, and sets me up for round three which I feel pierce my opposite side, sending me down into the dirt next to her.

And when the ringing in my ears stops it's replaced by an even worse sound, her screaming my name when she should be running!


	67. Chapter 67

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1033 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL, INDIANA 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

He promised to find me some Chai tea, and said relax, because everything was going to change soon. It did, and it was all wrong!

He didn't scream, he didn't yell either. The only thing close to a sound he made was a tight "ngh!" that was barely audible over the muted but distinctly wet impact sound that I recognized right before we started to move.

Clint whipped us around, but I knew something was wrong, because we weren't moving forward together. Clint was leaning, and I was falling, more and more of his arms entering my field of view as he tossed me away from him. I knew he'd been shot, and I knew that's why he turned and threw me back in the tree line, but as strange as it was, he looked relieved as he watched me fall, and I didn't know what to feel about that.

The confusion cleared itself up when a small cloud of red mist rose out of Clint's side and he fell too. I knew exactly what to feel then and it came out in a scream "CLINT!"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1033 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

CLINT 

* * *

The tunnel vision I saw in her eyes ended up making the decision for me. Even past the burn of the bullet I felt pissed when her little hands started tugging at my jacket shoulders when she should be running the other way, but once I blinked past the pain I knew she wasn't going to hear or see anything I said, she was too focused on my safety to remember her own.

So I helped her get it done quicker. Getting to my feet hurt like a son of a bitch, since I just had a bullet bore a path through my thigh, but her shoulder wedging under mine like a crutch helped the process immensely and brought us to the point to where she has us hobbling blindly in the opposite direction, at least until I stop and put a little more thought process behind our retreat.

Taking advantage of the fact that I'm bigger and stronger than her I swing us around, putting her between me and a tree wide enough to hide us from his scope. I didn't get the greatest look so I'm not totally sure where the sniper is, but given the field in front of us is flat and the entry angle, he was probably in the scaffolding of one of those cell phone towers.

It gives us a minute to regroup because that means he only has one angle to work with, and as long as we don't walk into a vision gap he will have to leave his perch to sight us in for another shot. It's a damn shame I don't have a rifle on me, because I could solve our problem right now.

I got another problem that's a little more urgent, and its her hands again. Her tunnel vision is dimming but it's still there and it's still far too focused on me. Now that we aren't moving her hands are redirecting their energy to seeing how badly I'm hurt, and that means she is trying to take off my jacket to get a look at those bullet wounds.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1034 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL, INDIANA 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

"Nora, no." The ways his voice rasps in pain only makes me even more determined to check his wounds, but his hands have their own determination, and theirs is stronger than mine. "No Princess, stop."

"But!..." He doesn't even let me get my plea out, gently wrestling my fingers back from where they really want to be. "No Princess, I'm fine. It hit the vest."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1034 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL, INDIANA 

* * *

CLINT 

* * *

"LIE!" She shouts back, with such angry darkness in her expression I can practically hear her teeth grind is she tries to crush that hate back in. "I saw blood!" but even with all that hate her concerns shines through when shining lines trace down her cheeks.

 _You're such a bastard Barton._  "Yeah, you did see blood." I confirm, quickly catching the attempt of her hands again. "Nora. NORA!" I didn't want to shout at her but I could see her focus narrowing again and I didn't have time.

"Nora. Look at me, I need you to listen to me. There is a sniper out there. What kind of sniper aims for the thigh and your side and skips the head shot?"  _Come on Princess, calm down and think for me._

"Th-the kind that that wants their target alive." I knew she would figure it out if I got to her calm down, and she does me one better because I can see her trying to figure out which one of us is the 'target'. "This is not your fault, don't you dare." I can see the 'but!' in her wet eyes "They would have shot me eventually anyways Nora, even if I didn't take you. Now my shirts plugging my side, but I'm gonna need your help with my leg. You up for that?"  _Giving her an objective always draws her out of her own head._

She nods too quickly, and I love her for it, but I need her to know what I'm really asking. So I gently cup her cheek in my least bloody hand. "I'm probably gonna scream Princess." This time there is two seconds between her and her nod, but she gives it anyways, with her own unique brand of determination. "I won't listen."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1035 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

After the shots I climbed down the tower, and it wasn't until after I reached the bottom and had time to light and take my first drag off the cigar that I heard the sound I was hoping for. Its really quiet out here and the wind has shifted into my direction so the scream carries to me ears.

It brings a smirk to my lips before I take another drag.  _Serves the bastard right._  But then I frown a little when my thoughts shift back to her. He is probably putting a tourniquet around his leg to slow the bleeding, and to prevent a trail from being left behind. But considering the round I put in his shoulder he is probably having her tighten it. That got to be so upsetting to her, gentle lil hen that she is. I wasn't trying to do that.

My thoughts shift away from that too just as quickly as I hear a the growl of a few motors before the sound of crunching field grass and bouncing suspensions greet my ears while the black frames of several army humvees grace my eyes and the boss exits the lead vehicle of the procession.

Taking one last drag of the cigar, which I regretfully didn't get a chance to finish, I reach down and pluck the cloth rifle case off the ground by one of the back straps, holding out to one of my mercs so he can take and store it in one of the vehicles. Then my attention shifts to the boss and the glowing jewel on his walking stick. "I take it it's time to go after her now then?"

"Oh, not quite yet." He says with more of a smirk then I thought he would. "It will not do to let haste ruin all of our hard work soldier." He elaborates when he see's my note of confusion over the fact he is in less of a hurry to reclaim her then I am. "This is a prize that is worth a little patience."


	68. Chapter 68

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1036 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

"You did good. Shh, you did good." I praise her a lot more out of breath then I would like, because even though I tried not to, I did scream. But she needs to know she did great, because I'm squeezing her shaking hand closed so she can't see her skin stained with my blood.

S.H.I.E.L.D agents get nice things, and one of those nice things is that any agent who works in the field is required to have on them at all times is this thing called an Xstat Syringe. It can stop the hemorrhaging from a bullet wound in about 15 seconds, which for any agent unfortunate to get shot means they have a better chance of living, and fixing the mistake that got them shot in the first place.

Thing is though, they hurt like a bitch, especially if you don't have the luxury of morphine because you can't afford to be dull even for a second, the situation I find myself in right now.

We did my leg first, and because I had the steadier hands I did the cutting. It's not that I didn't trust Nora with a knife at this point, if anything I wonder if I should give her one for her own safety, but I didn't need her turning my pants into a one sided pair of shorts, so I cut the hole in the material.

She didn't look squeamish at the sight of blood, god bless her, if anything she looked more concerned about the fact we didn't have anything to clean the wound with first. For someone who can't, couldn't, touch people for almost three years, she sure is a great little nurse.

She hesitated when I told her to just do it, because we didn't have time. But after I gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and pulled her a little closer in the process that hesitation burned away in the heat of her determination right before she shoved that plastic tub in my wound and pressed down on the plunger, filling my leg with cotton pellets.

That hurt, is I'm sure you can imagine. At first the plastic stuck and tugged at the broken tissue until the blood coated it and it slid in easier, but then I had a swelling mass of expanding fibers determined to test the limits of a very narrow space. I didn't scream for that one, I managed to bite back the sound. But not for the next one.

We gently loosened enough of the vest to tug up the side just high enough to give her access. It was awkward and I had to hold it there with my bad arm because I needed my good arm free in case I needed to grab my gun, but I endured it because I sure as hell wasn't taking the damn thing all the way off. Having her tug the part of my shirt the bullet pulled into the wound in my side hurt too, and I was sure it left a few threads behind but that was a concern for later.

When she pushed the plunger in my control reached its limit and snapped, my hand almost losing the edge of the vest as the urge to start beating something to distract myself from the pain welled up like a geyser, my little princess proved she was brilliant as she leaned against me and hugging me low around my elbows, started whispering "Shhh, be still, it's okay." Like she was the strong one.

It took me a minute to breath past that pain, because let's not kid ourselves, I had something in my side expanding farther than it had space to, and absorbing the moisture from the tissue of my internal organs that it blessed with its touch. I don't think the english language has sufficient swear words for that feeling.

When I felt her start to lift her hands that's when I made myself move. I know Nora's strong and brave, but I really have no idea how she would react to seeing her 'brothers' blood soaking into the lines of her palms, and with a shooter still out there waiting to take pot shots at us, I didn't have time to allow her the option of freaking out. "You did good. Shh, you did good. Now help me up."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1033 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

_This is my fault._  Clint told me not to dare blame myself, but that doesn't change the fact it's true. The shooter shot him in the leg first, which in itself is a very survivable wound, but since I had to help Clint stop the bleeding I couldn't miss the way the bullet pierced the soft tissue at least two feet below where my body would have rested in his arms.

I also didn't miss the fact that the fact that the wound to his side was also lower than my body would have rested. The smaller hole marking the entry wound on his back and the wider exit wound a little lower still, telling me the shooter was aiming down specifically to avoid hitting me. Clint took two bullets because he was holding me.

He took two bullets because he was focused on me, and not our surroundings. "Nora, did I tell how I won my wife's heart?" His question is out of the blue, and nothing short of laughably confusing because a few minutes ago I didn't even know he had one.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1038 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

Using her as a bipedal crutch I could practically feel her inner turmoil as she acted in place of my bad leg and let me steer us over the levelest ground of an untrodden forest floor.

_I told her not to beat herself up, but I knew she probably would eventually._  Nora can be so strong, but there's one thing that can always make her fall like a tree, and that's loss. Her memory, her 'family', her ability to touch, her ability to not be afraid of just being near other human beings. Nora lost all of that for a while. So the one thing that terrifies her, more then anything, more then even skin contact, is being alone again. And she isn't saying it, but right I know she is terrified that she is going to end up alone again and it's all her fault.

The shocked confusion is adorable, and I sort of hate it, because reading and persuading people is the sort of thing Natasha is better at, but she isn't here. "Watch that log." I tell her first, my eyes noticing what's obscured by a blanket of leaves and moss. "So do you wanna hear it, it's a real modern fairytale I've been told?"

She doesn't really answer, unless you count the cautious nod and tightening of her eyebrows. "We'd been dating for two weeks, and I beat three men to death because they broke into her apartment." The only reaction is those pretty eyes getting even wider. "I hadn't even slept with her yet, and those men weren't there for me, but I still killed three men and ended up on death row for a woman I barely knew. Now you and I have three years, you're my sister. I would stand in front of a cannon for you, now stop beating yourself up, or I'm gonna kiss you okay?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1039 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

I chuckled, even though every single thing about the situation told me to do the opposite. But then that single chuckle caused something that gave birth to hysterical giggling and his grinning smile, as I turned and whipped away the remnants of a snot bubble on the cleanest inch I could find of the jacket's sleeve.

"Well..." I've never been vain about my appearance, but I was never insecure about it either. I knew I was attractive, but amplifying that was never necessary or something I put the effort into because the phobia I had made discouraging unwanted attention more important. As long as I was clean, presentable, and comfortable I was content with my appearance, but now I feel embarrassed by it the first time I can recall. Covered in blood and dirt, blowing snot bubbles right after my 'brother' says he wants to kiss me. "...I think I just took care of that."

But to my surprise I feel his arm resting over my shoulder tighten. "Nora, you beautiful idiot." The insult is hollow, and even after the first half formed feeling of offense I realize it was just there to hook my attention. "I have a four year old. Trust me, you're still kissable." That was almost romantic until he added "but please don't make me make this weird, you're still my sister." And that just made me laugh, with more tears but no bubbles this time.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1040 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

That got her moving again, without drifting back into her head, which was the goal, though a small part of me was sort of disappointed. I didn't lie when I said I would kiss her, just like I didn't lie when I said it would be weird, because I think of her as a sister, and I'm married, but I'm also still a living breathing male.

Though that breathing part is getting harder, and is starting to consume my attention in a building way.

"No, ten feet, round the left side." I instruct her when I can feel her pace slow just a little as she tries to determine the path. And just those seven words make my chest burn in its effort to not let my voice wheeze.

I felt it, a shallow ache at the back of my chest where the third round hit hard enough to bruise my shoulder blade. Or at least I was stubbornly refusing to call it anything other than a bruise up until now. I knew it broke skin and tissue, but I also knew it didn't pass through the bone since I still had a functional arm even if it hurt like hell. I think it cracked the bone just enough though to bruise me internally, and that's where my problem really is.

I can feel my lung filling with blood, drowning me slowly even though I'm walking in an ocean of air, and I'm still a bastard because I can't bring myself to tell her that, because I've already checked and I know I don't have a syringe to relieve the pressure with. Then the option is taken from me as I realize Nora only went nine feet before taking a left and my foot sunk down into the hole filled with leaves I gave those directions to avoid.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1040 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

As soon as I felt it, his arm around my shoulder sliding farther up and pulling me down with him under the weight of gravity, I tried to steady both of our falls but I was already too late, the forces of nature and physics against were us. Between Clint's weight pulling me at my highest point, the downward slope of the round, and the damp underlayer of the leaves there was nothing I could do to stop our fall. Even reaching out and grabbing something, by the time I thought of it was a split second too late because my weight had already landed on top of Clint's chest.

My first response was a combination of apologizing and trying to help him, but his first reaction was faster than mine. I barely had the time to register the feel of his hands on my skin before I felt the slope of the hill collide with my back as he shoved me off of him, but any offense or pain I might have felt from that was blanketed by the sight of my 'brother' on his hands and knees, his chest heaving with a frighteningly wet sounds, and blood dripping out of his mouth before his limbs buckle. "CLINT!"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1041 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

Everything felt distant, but the fact that I felt vertical, and could feel the damp combination of sweat and blood against my skin cooling let me know I must have blacked out long enough for Nora to sit me up and remove my vest.

The echoing crack of a open palm impacting my cheek when I half consciously tried to catch her delicately prodding fingers is what really woke up. She just slapped the shit out of me, and given the way her eyes widen and she freezes up after that for a second I can tell she is just as shocked by her own actions as I am, but then the fury sinks back in and blinds her pity.

"W-w-h-h-y-y?!" Her voice is so broken by rage and heartbreak thats its an odd miracle that her eyes are so dry. Her tears have all been used up, and they went and got wasted on a lying shit like me.

When I don't answer quick enough I can tell she wants to hit me again, my little spitfire princess, but she checks that urge as her eyes do their best to overlook the drying red smear the bullet wound in my side still wears from the blood that soaked into my shirt, only to have to look at the foaming red spittle running down my chin. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did-n't w-want you to w-worry Prin-incess." My answer makes everything from her fists to her eyes clench up as she draws in an angry hiss through her nose, her body shaking in rage at my stupidity. "What do I do?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1042 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

I want to just hit him, again and again, for being so selfishly stupid. He didn't tell me he was bleeding internally, he was drowning in blood, because he didn't want to worry me?! But I didn't lift a finger to do anything else but take his pulse because of something else he is doing, or isn't.

He isn't bothering to try to hide the breathlessness of his words anymore, and that might be the most terrifying thing he could do. Not kill people right in front of me, or have glowing eyes, but not care enough to try and put on a brave face anymore.  _Please god, just go back to doing that for me, please._

"You... run... Nora."  _That was not what I want._  I barely even let him finish my name before I shake my head in desperate anger.

"No. What else I do?" There's no way that is happening. He can't make me leave him behind, and as much as I should be happy he isn't strong enough to force me to do anything against my will, I am horrified for the very same reason, because he needs to be that strong again.

"...G-go... Nora...please."

"Fuck you Barton, no." The swearing makes those grey lips curl up a bit in a smirk as his clammy hand shakily tries to lift itself up to my cheek, getting my assistance before it even makes it half way. "...Honest... eyes..." And even though his eyes are open, they don't see me. "Clint? Clint! CLINT!"


	69. Chapter 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SIXTY NINE

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1042 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

She looks so scared, my brave, stupid little sister, and I wish more then anything I could do something to make that look go away, but I'm pretty sure I'm down for the count, because my eyes just registered the visual of her hand slapping me again, but I didn't hear it or feel it, and I know that's not a good sign.

I messed up. I made her promises that I couldn't end up keeping. I couldn't even get her out of this town, and she is gonna just sit here, crying on top of me, until someone comes and just drags her away. I'm gonna be the thing that really breaks her, because she is gonna convince herself that she got me killed.

I wanna scream over that, but I can't even move in my own skin. I just have to hope Natasha comes through. I know she will for Laura and the kids. In a really messed up way, this is good for my family. They won't have to live in hiding anymore. Not a lot of people will bother killing the family of an assassin unless that assassin is still alive to mourn them.

It all sucks. But I don't regret a damn thing, except for the lies and the tears. Nora made me a better person, all the killing and the long days away from home made me cold and hard but Nora had so much faith in me it was almost impossible not to be affected by that. She still does too, right now, god bless her. Even with tears, she is looking at me with so much faith in her eyes you think she could buy a miracle. I wish I could tell her it's okay.  _She always had such... pretty... honest... eyes._

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1043 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

His hand gets so heavy that it actually surprises me enough to let it slide out of my fingers. He'd been reaching to cradle my cheek, but his arm was so unsteady in exhaustion that I took pity on him and caught his hand in mine, pressing the calloused side of his palm to my cheek.

But then he whispers that I had honest eyes, and his eyes looked empty. "Clint?" His pupils are dilating despite the stream of light hitting them. "Clint!" The shimmer in them that indicates life seems to be sinking out of view, a dull flatness overtaking his irises. "CLINT!" And worse of all is the way his eyelids are weighing themselves down.

"No, no!" My fingers press into the soft flesh beneath the back of his jaw, trying desperately to figure out if what I feel is a pulse or just the shaking fingers I can't make steady. "Please. Please no. Don't leave me?"

I gave that question one second, then I tried a different tactic. I made it a command. I slapped him again, my own heart feeling the pain as his head recoiled with no resistance. "Don't leave me! You can't leave me! Wake up!"

"Come on, Clint wake up!" I beg again, this time my voice breaking with the effort and a sob between each syllable as I scramble back to my feet and try to drag him away from the tree, but between the abuse from the soldiers, exhaustion, and the slick under layer of leaves that I forgot about I only end up slipping, and catching myself awkwardly on tree bark rather than risking landing on him.

I can't drag him out of this woods, and if I can't do that I certainly can't carry him. Not that I know what good that would do anyways, because I don't even know where we were going, and even if I did, I don't have the skills that are probably necessary to complete Clint's plans.

Dragging my foot a little thanks to the new ache in it I hobble back around to the front of him, dropping into a kneel by his thigh before I scoot forward the last inch or so by dragging my weight forward with my hands. I end up smearing his cheeks with decayed bits of leaves as I cup his 'sleeping' face in my hands. "Clint, please come back. You promised."

The stillness shatters me for a moment, and still holding his warm face in my hands I bury my face in his shoulder, letting out not words but a broken "h, h, h, henh, h, h, h" sort of sound as the grief takes over my ability to breath for a moment.

"It was Christmas, you bastard..." It takes me a second to get speech back within my control, but when I do I lift my head back up, forcing a smile as I try to wipe away the leaking stream of blood from his lips, and not give into the urge it puts in me.

"You swore on Christmas remember?" My first Christmas awake was one of the hardest I ever faced, because while everyone else saw it is a joyous time of celebration and family, and while I wore a brave face at work to me it was just a slap in the face reminder, that the anniversary of the day I lost EVERYTHING was seven days away.

Everyone else was either fooled by the mask or ignored it, but Clint and Natasha saw the truth, that when I was alone I was crying. Clint made a promise to me that night, he gave me the best gift I ever got from anyone. He promised he would never let me face a loss like that again. "You can't die, you promised me on christmas th-that y-you w-wou-ould ne-ev-er lea-leave m-m-me."

_Christmas is the day when a miracle saved the world, but I don't want the world, I just want god to honor one promise that was made on the day his son was born._  I'm holding my brothers face in my hands, looking for some proof that 'god' is really made of love, because after everything else he took from me he doesn't deserve to steal this away too. But not even an eye flutter is my reward.

So screw god then, if prayers won't work I'll try something else. His blood is clammy and copperish against my lips, but I kiss him anyways, because that's how it works in fairy-tales dammit, and I don't care what brings him back, just as long as it does. "Come on Clint, you have a daughter, if you can't come back for me, do it for her."  _I can't go to some little girl and tell her I let her father die protecting me, the universe isn't entitled to that!_

I even try threatening the universe with Natasha, because she is one of the only other people I can think of that might be scary enough to make death take out a rain check. "She didn't give you permission to do this Barton, come on come back, Nat didn't say you could die yet." But even the Black Widow isn't enough to make him move.

There's nothing but rage in the sound that sends those nesting birds fleeing.

I'm screaming now. The sound is something I don't even recognize my own throat being capable of, but I don't question it. I'm that angry. "GIVE HIM BACK!"

I am literally kneeling half over the cooling body of my brother, covered in blood and dirt and drying tears, SCREAMING at god and whatever one of his goddamned angels came down and dared to touch my brother's soul. "YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM! HE'S MINE! MINE YOU HEAR ME! YOU'VE TAKEN ENOUGH FROM ME! HE ISN'T YOURS, YOU DON'T NEED HIM, NOW GIVE HIM BACK, I'LL KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T GIVE HIM BACK RIGHT NOW!"

I'm pretty damn sure I mean it too. I have no idea how I would find and kill an angel but I'm supposed to be a goddess dammit all so if there is a way I will figure it out.

But I can't keep it up. The rage is like a magnet, and it sucks all my strength out of me. I can feel myself crumbling again, both physically and emotionally, my body drooping forward until I feel the decaying bark of the tree behind him pressing against my forehead as the tears trail down to the tip of my nose and water a dead tree trunk. "He's my brother, he's a father, he's all I have. Just give him back, ple-e-e-e-a-a-a-se..."

Then I'm reeling back, my weight rolling on my hips as I almost fly off his legs before my arms shoot out behind me and stop me from landing flat on my back too. The sensation of something tickles against my cheek still tingling in sensory memory, as my eyes take in the sight of unfurling triangles of green, and then laughter starts.


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SEVENTY

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1046 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

NORA

* * *

It scared me. The feeling of something touching my cheek when nothing should. It wasn't just the light brush of something caught in the breeze passing over my skin, there was pressure behind it.

It tickled the side of my nose at first before the slight pressure grew and encountered resistance as it encountered the barrier of the fat of my cheek before I flung myself back in shock, seeing a green blur fill my vision before the tears distorting my vision fell away too, and revealed the sight of a fern growing.

It was happening so quickly it reminded me of a timelapse video you'd watch on Youtube. The stem rose an inch a second, and its leaves filled out, unfurling from its spiral like some kind of living creature.

That's what really caught my attention. This fern was growing out of a dead stump, and I mean dead. The wood was so rotten it was almost soft, and there was nothing there a second ago, until my tears were there.  _Oh my god..._  The thought all but confirmed when I realize that the biggest leaf still has a tear clinging before the droplet is absorbed into the green.  _The plant is growing out of my tears? THE PLANT IS GROWING OUT OF MY TEARS!_

I went a little crazy for a second, I admit that, but I felt so much joy in that moment I didn't care about the laughter rolling out of me.

A plant was growing out of my tears! LIFE was growing out of my tears! Bits of scatters conversation start bombarding my memory. Loki said I had magick in me, he said 'my people' had magick.  _"The Vanir?", "Yes, the native inhabitants of realm called Vanaheim. The people whose magic and blood flow in you."_ He said we made marvelous things with 'our' magick.  _"A-A stone? The stone?", "A healing stone, made by the skilled hands of the Vanir healers."_

I could save Clint! I couldn't carry him, I couldn't fight or shoot, I didn't know what the plan was, but I could save him! All I had to do was cry and I could save him!

I barely realized I had moved by the time I registered that I was ripping opening the rest of the velcro on his vest and tearing open the remains of his shirt. My first priority was finding out why he had coughed up blood. That wasn't from the wound in his side, it was too low to do anything to his lungs, and it certainly didn't have anything to do with his leg.

Once his shirt was off it only took me another second to tear off his sleeve, the threads snapping with less effort than I thought they would need, not that I gave that any time to think about. After that my next priority was wiping away the blood already on his chest. I was looking for a fresh source of blood, but I needed to figure out what was old blood first.

I didn't find anything that bled fresh on the front of his chest, the wound a few inches lower still being disregarded as a last resort, so I moved on to his back.

I barely wrapped my arm around him and braced his weight against my shoulder when my fingers found the problem.

It hit him right beyond the edge of where the vest ended over his shoulder blade. I could feel the heat from his irritated flesh and the tenderness of it as the blood pooled under his skin as much as it leaked elsewhere. The worst part though was the uneven end of the metal I felt sticking out a few centimeters from his shoulder blade. The bullet was stuck in his bone, poking, bruising and tearing at the soft flesh inside him this whole time and he didn't say anything!

I don't know who pulled that trigger, but if I find them I'm killing them myself. I swear. For now though I have bigger problems. I need to get that bullet out.

Shifting him around was hard, because I was tired and everything was slippery from the ground up, but I ended up with enough room to squeeze myself behind him, one arm wrapped around the front of him to keep his weight from falling against the forest floor because I was pretty sure letting him land on his chest was a bad idea, and the other is holding his knife in my hand.

I ended up cutting a lot of red lines into his skin, but I pressed with the effort because a few cuts were the least of sins. It took a while but there was enough of an edge left in the butt of that bullet that eventually I was able to pry enough of the bullet out with the edge of his knife that I was able to pull the rest out. And somehow, not that I was sure it mattered with all of the blood, I had the foresight to shove that bullet in his pocket, both for identification later, but also one less bit of evidence.

After that I moved him again. Part of me wanted to lay him on his back, to give the blood filling his chest somewhere go, but somehow I knew that doing that might allow it to seep into his other lung, and I still need access to the wound on his back to see if my tears really would heal him, so I rolled him on his side and let the otherwise still rotten trunk prove solid enough to hold him at a angle.

Then I sunk my teeth into my arm. I need tears, and he took a bullet to his back, so I need a lot of tears. It hurt, because my arms were already bruised, scraped, and filled with splinters, but I groaned past the pain and sunk my teeth even deeper into my own skin, reveling in the feeling of wet heat running out of my eyes as I blurrily watched them wash clean lines into his skin.

I almost broke out laughing again, when I saw some of the red lines I regretted so much start to turn pink with new skin. It was working! I wasn't crazy, my tears were actually healing him! I was never so glad that I might not be human as was I right in that second.  _You're gonna live, you're gonna be fine, you're gonna go home to your daughter Clint, just stay with me._ "Please stay with me."

That joy is too short lived. It doesn't take me more then ten more teeth marks to realize as miraculous the fact I have healing tears may be, I also have to accept that they aren't healing him enough. All they've done despite the fact that I'm biting so hard I'm leaving blood imprints in my skin, is close those cuts and put a little ring of pink flesh around the torn up bullet hole.

I need do something more, I need something stronger, or all this pain I'm putting myself through will be for nothing.  _Come on, Nora, think! If your tears work, why do they work?_  A sentence Loki said repeats in my mind again, almost conveniently. He said  _"The people whose magic and blood flow in you."_ _He mentioned both of those things in the sentence, he described them in the same way, as something that flowed in me, that was unique to my people._

There's really only one way I can think of that such a claim makes sense. Whatever 'magick' I have, its genetic. It literally flows in my blood.  _Holy crap, I think I have magick blood!_

"You will not die on me, Nat is not here and you're not getting my permission so don't die!" I practically hiss in his ear. I'm sure can't hear me, but I don't care, I can save him, I can! I can probably heal the internal damage too. "Just don't be mad at me for this when you wake up, okay?" Nothing is stopping me, he has a little girl after all.


	71. Chapter 71

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE

* * *

 THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1112 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

 DUNCAN

* * *

It took about twenty minutes to find her after the boss finally gave it his okay. I had to make the trek across the field on foot after all because a humvee driving up would probably scare her off. There was also the fact I had to find and follow their tracks, because things look a lot different between up close or the lense of a scope. But when I did finally find her the only word I could think or speak was "Shit."

Neither of them are conscious, which I knew I would at least find Barton that far down the ladder of life, if not a few rungs lower. Even if blood loss didn't do it those bullets would, the hollow chamber in the point had tranquilizers suspended in the paraffin wax to knock the victim out. Barton may be one of the top agents in S.H.I.E.L.D, but even he is just human, and humans are pretty useless to themselves when they are unconscious. It's a pity that I probably gave him a peaceful passing that way, letting him die in his sleep, but if he's dead I don't really care.

She on the other hand is who I really about, and who the 'shit' was directed at.

She is curled up to him, which doesn't surprise me because she still foolishly seemed to care about him when we got split up, her body at his back to keep him upright on his side, and the mass of a truck against his chest to keep him from rolling forward. If I had to guess why he was in that position it's probably because she had enough sense to know the blood in his chest needed to go somewhere and she was hoping it would drain out.

That's not the part that bothers me though, the rest of the blood does. I can't see much of her face except her cheeks, but I can tell even with her hair in the way that her mouth is covered in blood! Then there is her damn arms! There are covered in blackening bruises shaped far too much like human dental prints, and some are oozing blood out of the teeth marks!

What worries me the most though is the way her hands, held more by gravity and mass then strength against his back are coated in crimson and creating a growing puddle of black mud beneath both of them.

Her bleeding to death on the forest floor wasn't part of ANYBODY'S plan!

The only reassurance I have that she hasn't yet is the fact I can hear her mumbling weakly into the nape of his neck as I hurry over to her side. "An... and you can teac-ch Ke... but only... w-with a... Nerf..." Her weak breath seems to hitch in what almost sounds like a chuckle "...Ac-actice... on-on To-Tony eve..." Which might have reassured me if not for the fact that turning her face to my view reveals black pupils that have almost outgrown her green irises. She's drifting into shock.

I let myself leave her side just for a second, because even though the contact necessary to turn her face was brief it was long enough for me to tell her body temperature was too low, and I had to do something to fix that. Thankfully that Norwegian doctor was a pain in the ass. Before I could even make the trek across the field he handed me some things that he insisted she would need. One of them was a Mylar blanket, the other things was some plush slippers which I have no idea where he found, and a hairbrush.

I didn't want the blanket because it was so reflective, and would practically be a signal to anyone searching the area but as I rip open the packet and shake open the sheet I'm really glad I humored him and took it.

Disengagingher from him wasn't that hard since she was really just pressed to him, not wrapped around him. I still did it with great care because it was clear she had new injuries but I didn't know what they were yet, and if any of them were broken bones I didn't want to make it worse.

Not that it made any difference to her, and that is what really concerns me. Her lack of a reaction is so complete I wonder if she even has the ability to register anything anymore. It's clear she lost a lot of blood somehow, and that's just here. I don't know how much she might have lost before they got here, and I don't have time to backtrack and check.

"Nora..." I prompt again, pretending that the sight of drying blood flaking off her chin isn't disturbing and focus on sitting her down gently and wrapping that crinkling blanket around her cold shoulders.

When her name gets nothing I try again with a bit more firmness in my still gentle tone. "Nora." if there was a reaction I don't see it so I take things a step further and lightly cradle her cheek in one hand, the other steadying her head when that action disturbs it enough that it starts dropping the opposite way.

This hold also gives me a chance to monitor her pulse beneath my fingers. ""NOR-A... IT'S ME, DUN-CAN..." I'm not shouting, but instead I'm over enunciating each syllable making the movements forming the sounds clear and precise. "NOR-A? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I'M GO-ING TO HELP YOU O-KAY? I'M NOT GO-ING TO HURT YOU. IT'S DUNC..."

Her voice is barely there but I can hear a softer drawn out sound add the syllable to my name as she murmurs it along side me. "...Duuuncan." the slur there worries me a little, just as much as the fact that her eyes still wear that dull sheen, but the fact she has enough consciousness to repeat a word is a positive sign big enough to outweigh those.

"THAT'S RIGHT LIL HEN." I adjust my hold on her cheeks, thumbing a few crisp bits of leaves free from where they stuck to her tacky cheek. "IT'S DUN-CAN." I repeat in the same manner as before, taking relieved delight in the fact it seems to be working.

That half dead look seems to be leaving her eyes as life manages to move its way back in, and words pick up too, or a word. "Dun...can, Dun-Dun...can..." At first her voice carries it with a little hesitancy, as if she is having trouble remembering what it's supposed to sound like. "Dun...can. Duncan?" Then it carries the name with confusion. And finally surprise "Duncan?!" as the dead look in her eyes burns away along side of it. "Duncan? Duncan?! OH GOD Duncan?!"

For a little thing she almost knocks me out of my crouched position and onto my back as her body launches forward into mine. I actually had to swing an arm behind me to brace our combined weight before I was able to right our positions. But I don't care that she almost knocked me on my ass because right now I have different priorities than focusing on my pride.

Poor thing, she must have been so scared because she is clinging to me with shaky arms, her face buried against my shoulder as she just continues crying out my name like it's some kind of prayer. "Shh..." I run my hands over her hiccuping back to try and sooth her. "Shh, it's okay lil hen, I'm here, you're safe now." I whisper, taking great care to not let the grin I'm wearing slip into my tone.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1115 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

 NORA

* * *

_Oh god, oh god, oh god. Duncan came back, oh thank you god!_  I thought for sure I was speaking clearly but as Duncan pushes me back enough from my clinging to cradle my face in his hands again his words make me think differently "Hey, whoa little hummingbird. You need to slow down, I can't understand what you're saying ok?"

I agree to do that, with a sharp series of nods, that was probably too fast and too sharp because it immediately makes my vision blur at the edges and my head ache like I stood up too fast for my blood, despite this Duncan steadies my chin even quicker.

"Ah, take it easy now, you lost a lot of blood." The concern in Duncan's voice makes its way into my head even though my view of his face is still spotty. "You're going to feel light headed and dizzy for a while."

I think he knows I'm having trouble focusing, that or he is worried about wasting time because he doesn't really leave a pause long enough to make me think he is waiting for a response. Instead I just feel his fingers press lightly against my jugular as he counts out my heart rate for a few seconds, while his other hand wipes away some of the blood from the edge of my lip before shifting to take the temperature of my forehead. Two of those three make me assume he is doing a field check of my vitals before he moves me.

But it's when he takes my wrists in his hands and turns my palms up for his inspection that I really start to pay attention.

I didn't realize how hard it was to cut through flesh. I always thought it would be easy, a sharp knife through butter. But butter doesn't feel pain when the metal slides through, and there are no grains to slice against. No tendons, or tissue, or bone to interfere with the sharpness.

When I realized my blood could save Clint's life I wasted no time taking up one of his knives and pressing the tip into my palm. But I only made the first cut a quarter of an inch before my instincts kicked in to make the pain stop. That didn't stop me from picking the knife back up out of the dirt though, and carving the rest of a six pointed star into my palm, religiously ignoring every stick and hitch of the blade on the way.

I reevaluated my perception of pain when I came to the second hand. Dirt, sweat, and muscles that were in such agony they didn't want to move. I had to manually use my unmarred hand to close each finger around the handle of Clint's blade, and this time the fire didn't feel cold in my flesh, it felt like a chemical inferno.

I carved each of those lines so deep I could barely breath or see past the pain and I did it for all twelve lines. I can see those twelve lines now. _They're wrong._

"What's wrong?" I didn't even hear my own voice speaking those word until Duncan answered them, and the surprise written so clearly on my face makes the concern deepen in his. "Nora, lil hen, what is it?" The question makes my eyes drift back down.

My hands are resting in his. His hands are stained by dirt, and larger then mine. They have even claimed some of the blood stains from my skin, making it easier for me to see the details that don't belong. The lines are pink, they aren't red bleeding gashes, but light stractches and freshly grown skin. "They're not bleeding, I need them to bleed, I can't fix him if they don't bleed!"

* * *

 THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1116 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

 DUNCAN

* * *

I expected resistance from her eventually, but I was figuring on it coming out when I finished checking her over and finally picked her up and started carrying her away from the corpse lying against the tree trunk.

I didn't expect it to manifest by her telling me she needed to bleed to heal a dead man and start trying to crawl over to him to do just that! But it looks like I'm not the only one who got caught by the unexpected.

A gasp slips out of her followed quickly by a grunt as I catch her by her waist before she can scramble far enough to get her fingers in the range of grasping the knife I didn't miss seeing between those leaves when I first came on the scene.

She fights me on my intentions the second she realizes what they are throwing struggling pleas, and her weight against me as I pull her farther away from his cooling body. "He's gone lil hen, you can't help him now." I say to no one, knowing she isn't hearing my words but that they still need to be said as I rein her in enough that I can start to pick her up out of the dirt.

"I'm getting you out of here lil hen." He did tell me to drag her away if he fell, which is ironic, because I'm 75 percent sure it never occurred to him that I would be the reason he fell, but with us spies you can never say for certain on anything. Turns out I should have applied that thinking to her too because the next thing I know there's a blur of beige and grey swinging into my peripheral, right before she club's me in the side of my skull with a rock!


	72. Chapter 72

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1117 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

Concussion: Usually self-diagnosable. Symptoms may include headache, mine feels like more of a pulsing bass playing for my sole enjoyment. Confusion, makes itself known by the fact I can't remember what's making me evaluate myself in the first place. Lack of coordination, it's there too because my first attempt to move has me sinking back against the dirt to steady myself. Memory loss, I have that too because I can't recall if I felt her leave my hands or if what I'm feeling is sensory memory of her skin. Nausea, check but thankfully hasn't evolved into vomiting. Dizziness, for a second I have to close my eyes because my eyes aren't convinced the world is still and it's not helping my stomach. Ringing in the ears, makes me think the bass somehow found a guitarist to go with my silent skull band. Sleepiness, and excessive fatigue are in my way too but those are the easiest for me to ignore because I'm pissed.

When she hit me, right in the space above the ear and behind my eye, she did it with enough force that I blacked out long enough that I didn't remember falling, let alone having any control of it. I'm aware of it now that I have the motor control to get back up.

My arm must have tried but failed to catch my weight because I found it twisted under my back at an angle I can feel straining my shoulder muscle as I wrestle it out from under my mass. It's not the only thing I felt. As I flip over into a kneel my fingers slide first over something warm and slick, then cool and grating as they land on the damn rock she hit me with.

For half a second that's where all my focus fixes. Flipping my hand over I can't help but be fascinated by the sight of my own shimmering red blood I wiped off that rock with my fingers.  _For a tiny little woman who shouldn't even be able to walk in her condition, she has one mean left hook, my Lil Hen._

The next half of that second though is filled with me remembering she was crawling off in search for a knife, and I don't care what the reason she thinks she needs it is. I didn't intend to let her have one anyways, but especially not after she started being so disobedient.  _So much for me going out of my way to be nice._

She didn't even have time to turn her head to look at me before I felt her ankle pop from the force I jerked her back by and then heard the branches shiver from the force her back hit that tree with.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1118 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I couldn't find the knife I used the first time, but it didn't matter because I was sure Clint probably had more in his clothes somewhere, and that's what I was reaching for. I almost had my hand on the shoulder of his discarded jacket, before I felt it. Calloused hot fingers wrapped aggressively around my leg and jerked, pulling my limb and torso back faster then my arms and dragging me through the dirt on my stomach. That only lasted a fraction of a second though before there was nothing but air around my body. Then there was the curved immovable mass of a tree trunk at my back.

It's amazing my sense could register anything beyond the feeling of the air being punched out of me by a pillar of wood. I felt the bark of the tree, soft enough to cave slightly from my impact, not that it mattered with the sturdiness of the core wood, and fragments of splinters rain down on me after my weight hit the dirt.

I felt the heat in my back from the way the parts of my spine that didn't directly touch the tree continued under the influence of momentum and bent a bit too far the wrong way around the trunk.

I think the worst thing my senses share with me though wasn't the pain and breathlessness, but the sound of boots crunching over the leaves toward me.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1118 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

_Ah dammit._  Trying to brush some of the tacky mixture of drying blood and dirt off my hands onto my sleeve I let my eyes drift back over to her as I walk closer to the tree I threw her into.  _Now look what I did._  Even in the process of pushing herself up from the way she landed on her side, I can't miss the sharp flinch of fright as she hears my boots on the leaves.

She even holds out her hand to try and keep me at bay, the effort making her attempt to drag herself father back away from me a little less steady. That attempt reverses itself as I kneel down and reach forward to check her hand for cuts, instead pulling itself in closer to her chest for its own protection.

Being afraid of me, my proximity makes her try to escape in the only other direction available to her since she has a tree behind her, and a thorn bush to her left. Her quick movement makes my own quick by necessity and only ends up scaring her more when my hand shoots forward and slams into the tree trunk to stop her exit right.

"Shh..." I pretend the sharper shiver in the middle of her trembles at that sound doesn't carve an emotional line in me and continue right along with my words. "...Hey, it's okay, don't be scared Lil Hen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that, really, I shouldn't have done that, but you can't treat a guy like that and not expect him to be a  _little_  upset."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1119 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

The voice is familiar, and so is the face. He's a Caucasian, with a masculine face, his facial features stronger and prouder than a woman's would be. His jaw is mostly a square one, up until the point of his chin that turns into more of an oval, and with the presence of his trimmed beard looks even smoother around the edges. Fitting with his prominent features is a wide-set mouth, and nose, but not so wide to look disproportionate to the rest of him.

He's also a brunette like me but his hair looks more on the darker end of the color scale. I'd also guess, given the part that isn't pulled flat by the fact it's in a ponytail, that his hair has somewhat of a natural curl to it.

He's dressed just like the other men I saw, in that he is dressed for combat. Camo pants, leather boots, a simple olive tee-shirt and a tactical vest with a camo jacket for warmth in that somewhat frigid place.

I made the exact same observations about Duncan before when I first had a chance to really look at him. The details are the same, the clothes, the skin, the hair, the body; they're all a perfect match, except for the person that's actually inside.

_"Shh... Hey, it's okay, don't be scared Lil Hen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that, really, I shouldn't have done that, but you can't treat a guy like that and not expect him to be a little upset."_  Those aren't Duncan's words even if they're using his voice to try to trick me."

_"Shh, I know, I know, I'm an asshole. It's okay, you cry it out... you do whatever you have to as long as it's quiet agent, I got you. You're safe."_  Those are the real Duncan's words. The words of a man who was willing to put himself in danger for a woman who wasn't even his mission. That Duncan would have never thrown me into a tree and say it was because he was a little upset.  _I couldn't have been that wrong about him, could I?_

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1119 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

Sometimes when an animal is semi feral, it doesn't always resort to flight or fight when it's scared and cornered, sometimes it just stiffens up like a statue and endures your presence, hoping you will not hurt it. That's what her reaction reminds me of now. A semi feral animal trapped in a cage and hoping if it doesn't fight my fingers it won't get hurt. I blame that reaction on boss and the early stages of Stockholm syndrome I saw appear before I got her out of there.

All my time watching her on those Manhattan streets I know what the real her looks like. So even though I spooked her a little, I'm confident that with enough time between her and that bunker I can get her back to being that girl who lived in Nolita.

She whimpers like an animal too. Her voice filling my ears unexpectedly as my attention shifted a fraction away from her to my tactile search in my pocket. "W-what-t ha-p-pened-d to -y-you?"

The furrowing of my brows is in confusion, but seeing her eyes shift away makes her misinterpretation of that pretty clear, but I don't react to that. Instead since I'm in a bit of hurry I multitask, and returning to my search of my pockets, I answer her with my first assumption to her question. She's probably asking what happened to me after the car.

"I'm sorry I didn't follow you right away."  _That stupid family and their dog was one thing,..._  "I know a lot happened while we were separated, I would have found you sooner, but I ran into some trouble of my own."  _...but the boss was another._  "Don't worry about that though, cause I'm here now."

My fingers finally finish their task. I kept my hand in my pocket while I removed it from its case, because I knew the second she saw even the container she would know what I planned and freak out, so I waited until it was securely in my hand before I risked letting her see it. "Now this will help you relax okay?" And sure enough one look at the little yellow dart in my hand finally has her committing to the flight response.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1120 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I forgot the bush to my left was one of thorns, but I also forgot that caring about that was an option just as quickly at that sight of that tranquilizer dart. Duncan's become a different person, and he wants to drug me, all my concerns are secondary to my need for that not to happen!

He was too close though for me to really have much chance at getting away. I barely got one hand closed around a thorny branch before I felt him grab me again and yank me back quick enough that I felt the thorns cut fresh lines over my arms all the way down to my fingertips.

His hands place themselves against my waist, my shoulders, my neck, and my arms as he makes himself an obstacle between me and my desperation, but through it all he keeps me on my stomach.  _I can't fight him as well on my stomach, human limbs weren't intended to bend as well backwards as they do forwards._  All he has to do is make sure I can't roll over and he wins. He is winning.  _CLINT!_

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1120 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

"No! Duncan! no..." She pleads on the border of a scream, except the struggling makes it hard to catch her breath. "...no needles please, please no!" And no amount of my reassurance or shushing is going to make any of that stop, not that I thought it would, I haven't forgotten that last time we were at this point.

I wasn't even the one holding the needles then, I was just was the one holding her. The crazy doctor was the one with the drugs, I was just the muscle standing to her left, pinning her on her back to the table with one hand wrapped around her over extended arm, and the other pushing down on her shoulder to keep her from rolling over or thrashing. I had a front row seat to her face in those moments, and while I can't see it now, her voice has the same desperate fear.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. I'm taking you with me. It's only going to be a little poke." That fear turns to sobbing as the needle breaks her skins attempt at resistance. "Don't worry, it's not in a bullet like I did with Barton." Then it switches to breaths of hitching silence.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1121 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

_...Like I did with Barton._  His mouth was inches from my ear so I know mishearing him is isn't possible, but it should be, because Duncan couldn't say that.

No, he could say that, it's not impossible, it's is possible is curling his fingers, the rest is just the aftermath. I just want it to be that way.  _I trusted him._  Even before I knew he was an agent, a STRIKE captain. _I felt something for him._  Gratitude for kindness in an elevator, and fondness for the stability he gave me in the chaos of that bunker room.

He was supposed to be a lifeline, a life ring at the end of rope for me to hang on to before I drowned in the storm, not the broken blipping of an heart monitor.  _Don't worry, it's not in a bullet..._  He shot my 'brother' so he could take me with him? He shot my 'brother' so he could take me with him. It doesn't feel like a rope, or a heart line anymore.  _He shot my 'brother' so he could take me with him!_  It feels like my blood has reached a boiling point.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1121 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

It itched, but I just viewed it is a distraction to be ignored as her struggles renewed with a broken scream. I hadn't meant to mention I was the sniper who perforated her friend over there, at least not this early. I planned on that conversation happening after I got both of us out of reach of S.H.I.E.L.D, HYDRA and Loki.

The Asgardian sent me into these woods to bring her back to him, but I never intended to do that. I don't know the exact moment when it happened, but it's been building for a while now, and all I can think about is her. I care about her, I want her, I need her.

I said take her to France, and that was plan. I have some places there, arranged so carefully even this damn eye hasn't seen them, and I can convince her I'm the better option there. I can keep her there. She's mine, and I refuse to share.  _Nobody's but mine!_  They all want to use her, I just want her. I'll try figure out how to do something about this camera in my head on the way too.

It itched, it doesn't itch anymore. I felt it in the pad of my thumb first, and just there. I thought maybe it was a scratch and the nerves were just reacting to the salt in my sweat. Now though I can feel the 'itch' in my palm and over the tendons on the back of my hand, it's traveling up my wrist. Its traveling up both my wrists!

_No, not up my wrists._ I wasn't looking at my hands before, my focus on them not visually necessary to restrain her until long enough for the sedatives to kick in. I'm looking now, and I'm re-evaluating everything I thought I knew about her.  _In my wrists!_

I found her covered in what was mostly her own blood, and to restrain her, I had the blood on my skin too, only it's not on my skin anymore, I can see the red liquid soak in like my skin has turned from flesh into a sponge, and the itching rash forming in its wake. Only its rising higher than a itching rash, it's bordering on a burn. Its bordering on a pain I don't have a word for because I can feel it deeper then just my skin now, its in my muscles. The pain making them stiffen in shock, is the rash spreads like climbing burrow lines to match my veins!

_Its like a chemical burn, a terrifying, internal, magickal fucking chemical burn!_  If I wasn't panicking about this I'd probably have a second to be impressed, and understand why everyone wanted her so bad if this is the magick she has. The offensive potential of being able to damage tissue like this is enormous, but it's happening to my tissue so all I'm thinking about is making it stop.

My first instinct is to let her go. The starting point was where my bloody hands touched her bloody arms, so it makes sense that if we separate it will stop. Except my hope proved wrong. Even after I let go of her, something that proved harder than I thought by the fact my right hand had locked up on me, and I watched her unsteadily try to pull her knees under her to stand I realized I could feel the burn crawl from my shoulder across my collar bone.  _It didn't stop, it wasn't going to stop!_

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1122 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

His weight was heavy on top of me and his hands were rough where one held my wrist behind my back, and they parodied a hug as it rested across my collar bone and held my other wrist there as he waited for his poison to take control of me, and I could feel it doing just that.

I was screaming and struggling, both inside and out but even the boiling anger in my blood didn't make the fact the shadows of the forest were growing shadows of their own at the edges and I could feel the same cold numbness creeping into my limbs just like I did when Clint stabbed me with his own needles.

Then suddenly his weight wasn't heavy on my back anymore. He pitched back, my own disorientation making his absence more jarring. It only made me waste a second before I channeled my rage into stubborn endurance and tried to remind my legs who they belonged to, then my eyes as my vision narrowed is the abyss swarmed at the edges.

I only caught a glimpse of what looked like Duncan frantically scratching at his throat before my own neck became my greatest concern.

My scalp burned, and I could feel the wisps of my own torn out hair tickling my skin from their position still in his fingers as they tightened. He suddenly yanked me up by my hair and threw me back to the dirt. I barely even had time for the stars to clear my eyes from my head hitting a tree root before I felt the far too familiar sensation of my windpipe being crushed.

"MAKE IT STOP!" My ears didn't recognize the words beyond the ringing, but my mind was still able to read them on his lips as he sat on my waist and pressed his hands against my throat, the curve of my skull forcing my head forward and closing my windpipe even more as I kicked in vain and clawed at his face with the hand that wasn't clawing at his fingers.

Even when I avenged my hair, grabbing a section above the bleeding gash I gave him from the rock and yanked out some of those curls. He only shook his head with a snarl and hauling me up by my throat slammed me down so hard I felt the bile trying to rise out of my clamped off throat.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1122 HOURS 

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE 

CARMEL INDIANA 

* * *

DUNCAN 

* * *

The wet desperation in her eyes tripled as well as her trashing as I felt her throat spasm violent but I didn't care about that. I could feel the acid climbing into my ear canal and behind my eyes now. That's what I cared about, making her make it stop! So I felt no guilt or pity as I grabbed some debri from the forest floor and lifted it over my head for a good swing.

I felt something though when the an explosion of bloody flesh, bone fragments, and wooden splinters formed a hole in my hand.

_SNIPER?! FUCK! WHERE? WAS IT BARTON?! NO, HE'S STILL..._  They say you can't stop a thought like you can stop a sentence but that's where my thoughts stopped with a 'THWACK!' and my senses took in the sight of the tree tops before my ears revealed there was a time delay between them and my eyes as I was her wield a branch, the end getting bloodier with each wet or metallic striking sound before one well placed hit vibrated off my eye with a 'THWOGG!' and all my eye recorded was static and a dull 'FA-THUD'.  _Good girl._


	73. Chapter 73

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1123 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

THE ASSET

* * *

Mission Type: Extraction. Civilian casualties acceptable.

Target information #1: S.H.I.E.L.D level 1. Target level 1. Gender: Female. Age: 25, Race: Caucasian, Asian. Height: 161 cm. Hair: Brown. Eyes: Green. Mission requirements: Deliver alive and unharmed, remove all interference.

Target information #2: S.H.I.E.L.D level 7. Target level 6. Gender: Male,. Age: 44 . Race: Caucasian. Height: 178 cm. Hair: Light brown. Eyes: Blue. Mission requirements. Eliminate discreetly upon interference.

Target information #3: S.H.I.E.L.D level 7. Target level 6. Gender: Male. Age: 29. Race: Caucasian. Height: 185 cm. Hair: Dark brown. Eyes: Blue. Mission requirements. Evaluate in the Field and eliminate upon interference.

Target information #4: S.H.I.E.L.D level none. Target level 9. Gender: Male. Age: unknown. Race: Asgardian. Height: 188 cm. Hair: Black. Eyes: Blue. Mission requirements. Do not engage, eliminate all who make physical contact.

Mission authorized: 0614 hours.

Resuscitation process: Initiated: 0637 hours. Completed: 0702 hours.

Prosthetic evaluation: Maintenance required. Maintenance Completed: 0758 hours

Mission briefing: 0807 hours

Mission equipping: 0833 hours

Mission departure: 0852 hours

Flight take off: 0902 hours

Flight touch down: 1027 hours

On location mission reevaluation: 1028 hours

GPS: 39.969502,-86.13027, Location type: Bunker, cold war era. Situation: Inaccessible due to local emergency relief. Cause: Subterranean collapse. Targets #1-4 not present, no longer an important site.

GPS: 39.9703246,-861261664, Location type: Parking lot, restaurant. Situation: Multiple homicide of non affiliated military personnel. Inaccessible due to military presence. Multiple witnesses, assailant reported is highly trained middle aged blond male (Target #2), left with a young biracial brunette (Target #1). Transport taken, US Army reserve issue Humvee. Targets #1-4 not present, no longer an important site.

GPS: 39.9384796,-86.0330252, Location type: Nature park. Situation: Unattended military vehicle parked beyond visible tree line, caller mentioned blood in the cab. Target #1-4 not reported present. Site of interest: Proximity to an airfield.

Emergency Call intercepted 1033 hours: Shots fired: Ritchey woods nature preserve.

Target #1 sighted. Target appears injured and traumatized but healthy. Awaiting orders.

Target #2 Sighted, target appears dead or unconscious.

Target #3 Sighted, Target #3 interacting with Target #1.

Target #4 Not sighted.

Target #3 Has initiated assault on Target #1. Mission requirements: Keep her alive and unharmed, remove all interference. Clear shot unavailable, Adjusting for disarming shot. Bullets used: 1.

Target #4 Sighted.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1124 HOURS

RITCHEY WOODS NATURE PRESERVE

CARMEL INDIANA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

It was the shot that made me stop hiding within illusions, but even though I had time to watch I still had to bend my own knee to keep her head from connecting with the dirt. Her stability, if not her consciousness altogether unable to sustain itself when she made the mistake of trying to stand.

_She was beautiful, and she was finally 'her' again._  My methods were cruel, I will concede that but her magick has always been so closely tied to her emotion, that I could not think of any other way to awaken it then but to push her this far. And it worked, I can feel that it worked. The sensation like sand in the wind prickles my uncovered skin, even though my own magick protects me. A fading imitation of what she did to him.

Healing is growth of new tissue, and that is her magicks highest form, its most noble purpose. Healing is controlled though. Eventually the cells know to stop dividing and creating new tissue. Cancer is very similar to healing with the exception that the division of cells does not stop. She tried to heal him to death.

That was an outcome I did not anticipate. Though when I think on the basis of her magick it does not surprise me as much, it was just an unexpected development, perhaps something she learned while we were apart.

I needed her ability to heal, that was the magick I was trying to reawaken in her. I needed the woman who we used to call the Heir of Eir, the woman who should have been the next great healer of Asgard before it all went wrong. I needed Eir's grand niece. I started this invasion without her in the plan, but the second I saw her, I knew every chance for success would be less without her.

But I could not ask! When I wasn't looking these savages made a  _mortal_  out of her and locked away the woman I knew in the darkest parts of her mind! She did not know me, she did not know herself, and she did not know her magick!

So I did what I do best. I hurt her, again. Lies and manipulation, it is all about achieving a goal. I isolated her. I lead her with kindness but when it called for it, I showed the other side of my hand too. I lead her with words, and promises, and tokens of affection. I led her with the absence of things I really wanted, like her kiss.

I lead her with the people she cared about. The scientist I need to complete the portal. The 'brother' who is wearing her blood as he sleeps against a tree. Even the mercenary whose face she just beat in with a log for his betrayal. I set all of their motions toward this end.

To that man's credit I did not know he was one of S.H.I.E.L.D's until after I put the spear against his spine. I also did not know he was dancing on even fouler strings until after I stole his mind. As tempting as the chance to murder a HYDRA agent for their crimes against her was, he had more knowledge about what made her that way than the archer.

Instead I decided his life would be put to better use. All I had to do was cast a simple illusion to hide the glow in his eyes, and tell a man who thought she was beautiful, to be kind to her. I gave her friendship, but then when the time came I made that friendship start blooming into obsession, and I told him to call his companions.

The whole escape, from the bunker to the fields, to the bullets lodged in Barton's back were all carefully planned out. The fool became so blinded by his forced affection for her and his desire to carry her out of my reach, that he failed to see she was more of a threat then I was. He did not see that I was making her his executioner. A trusted friend turns into traitor who tried to kill her closest family, how could those emotions not make her want to kill him?

"Sir?" The blond that addresses me now is another one of HYDRA's agents whose allegiance I stole, and in fact this one is the doctor who served as the dying man's second in command.

"I will tend to her." The unspoken portion of his question is filled in by the direction of his eyes as I carefully lift her up, her head shifting softly before the drugs reclaim their hold and her face rests against my shoulder, the barest sound of words trying to escape her restless mind. "I need you to secure agent Barton, I still have plans that require him alive."

It is clear she managed to heal him, but it is more likely since her magick just reemerged that she simply poured raw energy into him and closed the most dire of the wounds. He will still require surgery if he is to survive the internal damage.

"Leave Agent Pierce." Now that her consciousness has faded, so has the volatility of her emotion driven magick, and I can see it trying to heal the very cancer it created in him. It means nothing though because if the trauma of his injuries does not kill him, his lack of consciousness and his 'betrayal' to his people will in the short time it should take them to find him.

"Have the rest of your team stay here to deal with your friends as well." After both of their leaders turned out to be HYDRA I 'recruited' the rest of the men that arrived under Mr Pierce's command. I have a better army on its way so I had no grand plans for their lives beyond ensuring their obedience, and since their former masters have sent out some of their dogs it only seems polite to let them play with each other one more time.

Not that I am terribly concerned by their presence. I am more intrigued and offended by it. I watched them shoot their own man, who by all accounts was the son of their leader. It betrayed them, their lack of loyalty to each other, and their intentions here. They only fired when she was most at risk. That's why I am intrigued.

The one who pulled the trigger, a shot into the sky would have had the same effect. It would have distracted Agent Pierce long enough for Arnora to gain the upper hand. The fact that they have done nothing to help him says they do not care about his life, so their sniper could have just as easily put a bullet in his head when he pulled back to gather momentum behind his swing. He chose to cause him pain instead, his choice was personal.  _Barton did not mention another marksmen in her life. I wonder who he is, this 'enemy' that cares?_


	74. Chapter 74

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1131 HOURS 

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER 

INTERNATIONAL WATERS OFF EAST COAST, USA 

* * *

FURY 

* * *

The conversation started with my honest attempt at letting them explain this, but that courtesy evaporated with the words "We sent in those forces Director Fury, because we could not afford to wait." And for a moment I let silence fill their ears as I rub my temples in frustration, not for the first time wishing they were here in person instead of just images on my screens. "No, what you did was encourage a bunch of poorly informed small town cops to throw away their lives trying to capture an alien terrorist wielding power greater than a nuclear bomb."

 _Oh, look at that, silence._  "Oh, I'm sorry, did you skim over that part?" The question mark note tacked on there falsely implies I'm waiting for an answer as much as it misleads that I might give a shit about it even if I hear one. "Or did you forget I'm the director of an  _intelligence_ organization? That's okay..." I continue on as I swing open the manila cardboard "...because I can read it to you."

"At 0851 hours a 14 year old named Clark Myers from Creekside Middle School walked into the PD of Carmel Indiana with information about one of the FBI's Most wanted, and he wanted to know if he could get his reward in twenties."

"Now reasonable doubt aside, I don't know if you know just how excited small town police officers get over a chance to do something besides write traffic tickets. So after they questioned the boy and looked at the evidence he had on his phone, they decided to at least check it out, with a SWAT team."

The distaste in my tone with those last two words is so undisguised it's almost laser focused. Sending a SWAT team after Loki is a miscalculation of par with bringing a feather pillow to a tank fight and the only way a mistake like that is possible is with bad information or a complete lack of it. "Director Fu..."

"I am not done."

"When they got there, they were just surveilling the area until they ran into a unit of mercenaries with assault rifles." I barely even consider lifting my eyes at the asian accent trying to say my name again. "I'M STILL NOT DONE."

"The fight went into underground level which the people of that town were never supposed to find out about, not that it's a secret any more because an entire theater complex just dropped forty feet into the ground, and buried 67% of the local PD, 12% of the national guard they called in for backup. We also have five massacred army reserve men in a Domino's parking lot, and a home invasion that turned into a homicide, with a little girl who is still scared to do anything but ask for her dog. Oh yeah, and that STRIKE team you forgot to tell me was being sent out, apparently they are collecting their dead in a nature park."

My tone should still be furious, but this is the part where it softens. "Now here's the part where it gets real interesting, that Most Wanted man's name the kid gave is Glen Stewart Godwin, and it wasn't hard to recognize him since I orchestrated his escape from Folsom Prison personally, because his father asked me to." My eyes look over to his face in particular, taking in the kind of exhaustion I haven't seen in him since Bogota. "What happened Alexander?"

The left side of his cheek shifts as he pulls the flesh between his teeth and then lets it go. His hand twitches as he taps his pen three times before the fourth one has his fingers sliding down the shaft and tip of it rolling out of his fingers to rest flat in the table. His eyes close before that helpless smirk of frustration takes over his lips as his glasses come off and are only set on the table with half of a concern. "He's my son Nick. He asked for help."

"His team was running a mole mission in a gun running ring. They went dark a few hours after the P.E.G.A.S.U.S base fell, which you know we were looking into because the time was suspicious. But it was a deep cover mission, and when I received an alert with his old Alias I knew it was an extraction request and I assumed that's why they went dark, their cover had been blown and they were retreating to a safe location. I didn't even consider the possibility he was with the Asgardian, because there is no strategic value to a place like Carmel, Indiana. Even with the bunker, Barton knows better locations."

"So you just sent his old team to bring him back home?" The yes is delivered in a nod. "There were no details, so I sent the STRIKE team in case they needed back up. Even Rumlow didn't see the trap until their eyes were glowing in his face. He and his men had no choice but to put the affected agents down."

"And Alex?" I ask with the concern of a friend, and wondering how his sister and his niece is going to take this. "We haven't found his body, so we have to assume he is still with Loki or at the very least not in control of himself." He's still except for the breath as he speaks the words slightly more to the table then me. "I already put his face out there, my son wouldn't want to endanger his country. He'd understand. She'll understand too, I'll tell her."

"We think it was a recruitment attempt." Councilwoman Hawley's voice cuts in rather abruptly but with a soft edge that suggests her sympathy all the same. "Using the son of a high official like that would guarantee higher level agents being sent to bring him in."

I can see her logic, but I can also see the mountain of contradiction in the way. "No, if he was just trying to add soldiers to his ranks he wouldn't have dropped a city block on top of a SWAT team, that's wasted resources and attracts attention, Barton could have incapacitated all of them easily, even a STRIKE team wouldn't be hard, all he would have to do is sacrifice a few of his mercenaries, use them to distract the team while Barton took them down enough for him to turn them. That also doesn't explain the kid and her family."

"So what do you think he was doing then? Trying to lower morale by showing he can get even the best of us, didn't he already show that with Barton? Or is this just his idea of a dress rehearsal?"

"I honestly don't know."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1134 HOURS 

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER 

INTERNATIONAL WATERS OFF EAST COAST, USA 

* * *

COULSON 

* * *

_Do my job. Stay professional. That's all I have to do._ I recite it again, as I've been reciting it all day. I added many more repetitions of the  _stay professional_  back when I visited Stark Tower in what was only thinly veiled in the illusion of a request. It would have spoiled my association with Miss Potts for a while, but I was completely prepared to taze Tony Stark beyond the threshold of consciousness and transport him to the helicarrier against his will if necessary. I'm glad it wasn't because Miss Potts is very nice.

She makes all my interactions with Stark less stressful, and she even helped me relax when we left, asking me if I could give her a ride to Laguardia airport on my way out of town. She brought up Audrey.

Ever since the incident with the Ironmonger, and the fiasco that was the I am Ironman press conference she and I have kept in touch, and she knows my girlfriend. Audrey is back in Portland right now. Since Marcus Daniels, an enhanced individual with an obsession with her has been locked away she decided it was time to move back home and see if she can get her position back in the symphony, I even heard she is up for second chair cellist. I hope when this is over I can get some time off and surprise her with a visit.

The only down side to my relationship with Miss Potts was that the conversation made time pass too quickly and the fifteen minute drive seemed more like three and with her closing the door I found myself back into the frantic pace of trying to save the world as we know it.  _Never thought I'd want to save the world more than I wanted what I had scheduled next._

 _I had to pick up Captain America._  After I was caught by Maria Hill sitting vigilantly at his bedside after they pulled him out the ice, I was told not to approach him until he had a chance to assimilate into this century a little, because they were worried my enthusiasm would overwhelm him. But now I get to pick up my Hero for his flight, and I feel sick to my stomach with dread, all over the thought of one name. Nora.

So far for the flight he has been quiet, except for the initial greetings, the tablet in his hands keeping his attention is he catches up on the players we plan to team him with. _But what if he asks about her? What am I going to do WHEN he asks about her?_

I'm in a situation where I might have to lie right to his face about the safety of his best friend, because history has shown us how dangerous the Captain can be to himself with that knowledge. He almost fell off a train trying to save James Barnes, then he drove head on into an enemy terrority, and steered a plane nose first into the arctic circle in a suicidal act of heroism.

_Do my job. Stay professional. That's all I have to do._

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1136 HOURS 

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER 

INTERNATIONAL WATERS OFF EAST COAST, USA 

* * *

NATASHA 

* * *

My phone shocks me with a message a few minutes before our wheels even connect with the deck of the helicarrier, and I knew instantly why the message came. Intercept Captain America. Coulson is succumbing to his fan-boy tendencies. The pilots probably told on him, that or Fury pulled up the cockpit camera and checked.

He knew as well the second he saw me stroll up what I was approaching for, the realization that his alone time with his hero was approaching showed the the very slight stumble in his steps as he stepped off the ramp. It showed in his admiration filled introduction of the man in a brown leather jacket at his side too.

Captain Rogers.

My 'hi' to his 'ma'am' may have come of more callous then I intended it, but I was still upset over all the information I read during that flight back from India, and the general stress of sharing such a small metallic space with my fellow passenger for so long. I also didn't intend to waste any pleasantries trying to separate Coulson from his hero, if he was already acting foolish, it wouldn't be long before he graduated to mistakes.

After Coulson walked away with reluctance buried under his professionalism I take the opportunity to look over this man I heard so much about. His name came up on the lips of every S.H.I.E.L.D agent, but I didn't really start paying up until it started coming up on Nora's lips, and in the same sentence as her name.

This is the first time I've actually seen him in person. Of course I was aware we found Captain America in the ice but I was already out on the ten rings assignment before he woke up so all I had was second hand accounts and the files I read on the plane.

They list him as Nora's friend, but beyond the cold technical details of the outing logs I can't help but wonder if they underestimated the emotions on both sides. Nora might love him. The way she acted around him, if it weren't for the barrier of her condition, those acts would fit perfectly under the label girlfriend.

The sister in me is more focused on puzzling out his feelings though. He might love her too, and I think I'm hoping he does because he is good to her, and she might need someone who is good to her when this is all over.

None of this analysis filters through though because if it did I'd have to let him know I know Nora, and that can't happen yet, not until I get that order, and not until we know what's happened to her. I misdirect with talk of vintage trading cards as I guide us back to a very lost looking man in a brown suit and loafers.

It didn't take Banner long to take over the introduction, glad for something to distract him from nervously dancing around all the military that a certain general had him avoid for so long.

As soon as it became clear they were getting along just fine I found no trouble in settling back to give the space to do just that. I only stepped in when one of the air traffic controls sent out a general broadcast letting everyone know that take off procedures were beginning and we had to clear the carrier's deck soon.

Smirking a little I realize that this will be the first time the Captain has seen the helicarrier in action. I have the same observation with Banner, though his was more predictable. I remember the first time I saw the helicarrier take off, and I remember Nora's too, though that was more thanks to Clint sending me the copy of the security footage then my actual presence on that day.

A glance over my shoulder as I lead them into the control room doesn't leave me disappointed, but that's where my attention shifts back to more serious matters. They are running a facial scan on the latest batch of satellite footage with Clint's face as the search criteria.  _They haven't found them yet, but why are they looking in Carmel Indiana?_


	75. Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE 

CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE 

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1251 HOURS 

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY 

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA 

* * *

CLINT 

* * *

I think I'm on the set of the Shawshank Redemption, about 18 years too late to get Morgan Freeman's autograph.

I woke up to the feeling of a drainage tube being forced between my ribs. I was half amazed and confused at the possibility my brain still had the oxygen levels for consciousness at all, and half determined to beat the shit out the the people doing it, because that fucking hurt! But then they hit me with some kind of paralytic.

They either didn't have any anesthesia at that point since we seemed to be in the back of a moving van, or they were saving it for later. That meant I had a lovely few hours of awareness but couldn't do anything about it. So I looked, and I really wish I hadn't. Before one of them had the decency or general intelligence to close my unblinking eyes so they wouldn't dry out, I saw the tan skin of a very familiar feminine hand in the gap between two white curtains, covered in teeth marks and blood.  _NORA!_  Then there were latex fingertips on my eyelids.

After that I tried to learn anything I could with the other abilities I still had available to me, but there's not a whole lot you can learn from the smell of antiseptic and soap, and trying to track your travel path doesn't do much good if you missed the start.

Even when the vehicles stopped I couldn't tell much, and when they dropped me on what felt like a warped desk and stuck another needle in me I stopped being able to tell anything. Looks like they were saving the anesthesia after all.

But when I woke up, to an eye full of pillars and a ceiling of chipping paint I was pretty damn sure I knew where I was, even if it had been a lifetime ago. When mom left dad, one time out of too many, we ended up in Ohio for a while, with a prison guard we were never gonna call dad. When Barney got busted with a six pack mom's boyfriend gave us a tour of this place, to try and scare us straight. I remember this chapel.

But back then I wasn't chained to a fucking pillar, looking at my sister lying unconscious in white on the preacher's platform like some kind of horrible B movie sacrifice, and I sure as hell wasn't calling her name praying it was only sleep that had her so goddamned still. "Come on Nora, wake up Princess. Don't do this to me. Open your eyes Nora. Come on, give me something Princess, please..."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1252 HOURS 

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY 

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I could feel the acid in my throat burning as its path was blocked and made my lungs ache even more as my throat struggled not just to breath but to keep me from drowning in my own vomit, and then suddenly I could taste air again!

Duncan's hands and weight were all but off me, and I could breath! The first breath was so heavy the coughing made my vision fade in with black, but that only lasted about three breaths before I realized Duncan was moving again, and I couldn't let him touch me!

It was a tree branch that I grabbed, not that I realized that until after it was in my hand, and I swung the knobbed end of it right into the edge of his eye socket! I swung again, and again, and somehow in the process I wasn't just swinging. I ended up straddling him and I was slamming the end of it into his face.

I don't know how long I did that, but I know when I stopped. I hit something so hard my bloody hands just slid down to the base of the log, and I felt his skin against the side of my hands. His skin, sitting over top of still muscle and still bone.  _He's dead, he's dead, he's dead, he..._

My head was swimming and I felt so heavy I just sat there on top of him, my hands still cupping the space the branch rolled out of and resting my forehead against his shoulder.  _He's dead, he's dead._  And then I remembered we weren't alone.  _Clint._  Liar.  _I have to get Clint._  That was my last real conscious thought before I thought I smelled warm leather and metal.

 _'...Come...'_  He was carrying me. I couldn't see his face, there was blackness and chemicals in the way, but I didn't need to. I knew by touch, I knew him by feeling. He was safe. And we were cold.

 _'...On..'_  This isn't now. This is the past. This is a dream, again. I know that in the same disregarded way that you know water is wet and sunlight warm. I know these visions are broken.

My blood is freezing to a thick syrup at the open edges of my spine. I can even feel the pull of IV tubes tugging at my tissue as the storm grabs their tails.  _'..Nor...'_  I can feel his arm. His left arm is cradling my shoulders, and its so cold its burning my skin as his steps start to falter from the shivers and the thick snow.

"Don't look Doll."

 _Blue eyes..._  For a second my mind put a head of blonde curls and baby fat cheeks in my vision with those eyes, but that's not what's there after I blink. The blonde boy has changed to a brown haired man even though the eyes haven't changed a shade.  _'...wa...'_

 _'...Up...'_  There's a bruise on his forehead, a cut old enough to be half healed on his cheek bone and the drying flakes of blood on the shell of his ear, but he is smirking at me with a soft chuckle. "Your touches don't hurt me, remember?" And make me realize my hand is actually reaching out in front of me, stopping an inch away from the skin of his left arm not covered by that tattered wool sleeve.

He takes a step in, his right hand coming up without hesitation as if my permission was already given. It's strange, because I think it is, even with his fingers twisting a curl in my hair I don't even want to consider telling him to stop or backing away. If anything I want to refuse its absence.  _'...Pri...es...'_  I feel frozen with warmth, like I'm standing on the edge of anticipation, but I have no idea why. "I knew you'd be a real Sheba once you had hair again."

The grass is dry between my toes, it's grey because it's turned to ashes. Everything is gray. Even the sky, even the sun. I'm on a road, and there are carts on either side of me, lying like they fell from the sky, but the road wouldn't let them touch it. Even the blood leaking out of the horse is grey.  _But I'm in color, why am only I in color?!_  I was never here.  _Why am I here?! '...'_

 _'...Do...'_  "Íviðia"  _That word? That name? I know that name. It doesn't sound like a name, it sounds like a title. Why do I know that?_  Where did he go, and where is that voice? "Íviðia" it's a different voice. "Íviðia."  _Familiarity._  "Íviðia."  _Reverence._  "Íviðia."  _Frightened desperation._ "Íviðia."  _A cacophony of screams._  "I don't know what it means! Stop."

"Liar." It's silenced, with my voice. I'm standing behind myself,  _but... that's not me?_  'I' have two lines of blood painted down my chin, by two of my own blood dipped fingers. '...Hi...''I'm' standing with that little blond boy's hand in mine as he looks up at me in happy curiousity. 'I'm' standing is blood is poured over my shoulders, on a platform of dead dogs!

There's no hesitation in my feet now, but there is no strength either. Instead of backing up my legs just buckle at the knees, sending me down into the burnt grey earth, the ashes of bombs and burnt flesh filling my lungs long enough that I don't realize the blood is flowing across the dirt until I can feel it brush my toes! '...to...'

 _'...m...' No, no it's red I can't let the red...! if he finds me! Not again, not again please no more!_  I'm scrambling like a crab over the grey corpses of people, horses and carts alike, I'm so terrified I can't even take the time to stand up, and I don't even know why.  _'...Ope...'_  It's only red, only a color. When have I ever been so scared of red?!

"Shhh" I can feel his warmth radiate out off him and reach me a second before the rest of him joins it. The solidness of his bare arms wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me gently against his chest into a hug, as he presses a kiss against the shell of my ear and starts to hum away my fear with a slow song.  _'...your...'_  His stubble tickles a little as his long brown hair sways into view for a second. Then he just leans back and rests his chin on my head as he joins me, the cold press of his metal chain and dog tags finding their way past the edge of my tank top and rest against my spine letting me know I'm safe.  _'...ey...'_

 _'...Nor...'_  I dreamt this before. I dreamt of a cabin, in the woods, on a lake. I dreamt of a place so perfect it couldn't possibly be real, I just wished it was. The man was supposed to be the same. A collection of things, cobbled together in one unit. The details so random they would only be the same once.  _'...ome...'_  Just a fantasy. So why does his presence feel so real, so familiar, so near? I can feel it all the way down to the tingling hairs at the back of my neck. And why does the warmth of his left arm seem so wrong?  _'...'_

 _'...ve...'_  "Who are you?" The questions asked with darkness in my vision as I let my eyes close, trusting darkness more than whatever colors this dream might show me next. "I don't know you?"  _'...m...'_

 _'...som...ng...'_  Its the word "liar" breathed into my ear that makes my eyes snap open, but the sensation of dust coating my fingers is strange enough to stop me from turning to face him.  _'..Princess...'_  Starting from where I held his left hand over my heart I can see his skin float off his arm like powder in a breeze, revealing sharp lines and a metallic sheen as the cold sinks into my skin so much it starts to burn and the blood starts running down my arm!  _'...please..'_

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1256 HOURS 

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY 

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA 

* * *

CLINT 

* * *

I don't think I was ever so happy to see someone wake up freaking out, but I was beginning to lose my argument with myself on the whole 'she's just sleeping' thing. I pushed down that relief quickly because of the feral intensity I glimpsed in her eyes.

The way she sat up and put her back toward me, and I don't think she even noticed my presence in the room with her yet given the angle of her eyes. There's the fact too that she seems panicked by the state of her inner arm and her lips. Whatever she is thinking seems serious enough I'm worried her fingernails are going to start drawing blood if she keep looking for whatever it is she thinks is there.

"Nora?!"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1256 HOURS 

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY 

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I flinched so hard it seemed to put my realization a step behind my reaction time. But by the time my eyes landed on him as I turned around, my ears realized I knew that voice.

I'd been trying to get the blood off my arm and face, even though I couldn't see it anymore and it wasn't showing on my hands I could still feel all that redand then there was Clint's voice calling my name.

The ground had turned to dingy tile, and the trees had turned to chipping plaster and concrete pillars, and somehow Clint changed too.

His eyes aren't dull, they are bright with concern. His lips aren't rimmed with grey, they are moving. His words aren't wet gasps, they are clear with my name. His skin isn't clammy and white, its clean and pink and alive.  _Alive. Clint's alive._  The nightmare is gone and the red is forgotten as my cheeks get wet and my chuckle fills the room. "Y-you came back."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1257 HOURS 

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY 

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA 

* * *

CLINT 

* * *

The laughter worries me, it makes me question the state her sanity ended up in my absence even if I know part of its relief. The shining tear lines and the glimpse of her smile before she smothers the rest of her chuckle behind her hand, those things tell me that, and I can't blame her for them.

She probably thought I died, hell I thought I died there for a second. Then there's the fact that we have clearly been recaptured, and god knows how that went down, or how scared she was through it all without me around to protect her.

Whatever trauma she went through still seems to have her distracted, and even with me repeating her name in warning she only notices the chain cuffed to her ankle when its slack runs out and stops her stand half way up.

There's confusion in her eyes at its presence a half a second before the meaning that comes with its existence sinks in, and the frightened despair with. "Nora, it's okay." I want to reassure her but I know I'm just making sounds and lies.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1258 HOURS 

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY 

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA 

* * *

NORA 

* * *

I'm chained to a sunken floor ring. I'm dressed in new clothes, a knee length and sleeveless white peasant dress. Clint's sitting on the floor, both his arms haven't moved from thee place around the pillar behind him, and in the absence of his shirt I can see purple bruises and the clear sight of a drainage tube sliding out of his chest and the spiky ends of stitch knots.  _We... no... this..._  "This wasn't supposed to happen!"

"Nora" I look back up at my name, only to hear the worst word next. "Princess" The one that says we are so screwed. "It's okay."

"No..." This time the chuckle is painful. "No its really not you idiot." In his silence says it hurts him too which just pisses me off.

 _God damn this stupid thing!_  I start tugging at it, getting even more upset by the fact they chained it so tight I can't get my fingers between it and the fucking sock they put there to keep it from chafing my skin. "This is not what's supposed to happen, this not why I fixed it, this is not why I did that! This is not! This is not!"

"Nora?! Nora stop." I can hear his own chains shift behind the pillar, Clint obviously concerned and trying to do something about the fact that I seem to be losing my mind, but his own metal links getting in the way. "Come on Princess you gotta stop."

It's only the pained sound of his groan from straining so hard that makes me stop bruising my fingertips against the steel. "I didn't... I didn't... not for this, I didn't do it for this."

"Nora"  _God I've never seen him look so sad._  "You're breaking my heart and I can't come and hug you, so you gotta calm down on your own okay Princess."  _That stupid word why does he keep saying that stupid word?!_  But instead of telling him that I just sniffle and nod.

"Good girl. Now tell me what happened, what did you do?" I want to answer him, but instead all that comes out is a tiny shivering "mhn" because I can see the door moving beyond Clint, and a very familiar, and angry set of features comes into view.  _No, please no._

"Why she almost killed herself trying to preserve your worthless life. Hello Arnora."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> Since I am assuming most of you know who the smirking brown haired man in her dream is, this shouldn't be a spoiler. SHEBA is slang from the 1920's-1930's for a sexually desirable woman, and since Bucky was growing up in those years it makes sense he would use slang for them.
> 
> If anyone is confused by the collection of italicized and broken words during the dream sequence, that is Nora's hearing Clint through her unconcious state.
> 
> Also apologies for anyone who checks the PHOTOBUCKET albums, but I am having internet issues, and have a difficult time posting the chapters is it is. When the internet gets fixed I will upload the pictures for the last few chapters.


	76. Chapter 76

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1259 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

She is a distracting sight. Dressed in a simple white chemise that left her tan limbs exposed. Her hand held out for mine as her ankle pushes the limits of that chain and a particular kind of desperation in her eyes as she says my name. _Oh, she is very distracting, but not nearly enough._

When we brought her here her clothes were ruined, as was her skin. The clothes were dealt with easily enough. They were discarded and replaced. Her skin however could not be discarded or replaced, so it was tended too.

I bathed her with water and stones, so many stones. Before when I offered her a healing stone I dissolved them in a glass of water for her to drink. But this time I chose to apply them to each wound. I wanted to avoid any chance of her wearing more scars. I succeeded in that, everywhere but her hands.

Slivers, scrapes, bruises and cuts. Teeth. I knew she would come back to me harmed, I knew she had to, but the teeth marks disturbed me. I did not think she would bite into her own flesh like a beast, especially for one of them!

The scars disturbed me more. As a healer with innate abilities it should be almost impossible for her to scar. I remember her and her peers having the ability to leave unblemished skin in the wake of life threatening wounds. The white stars now marring her palms prove she is capable of achieving the impossible, in the worst way.

The guilt that left me with was, is, infuriating. I just wanted to bring her magick back, and she risked so much for them, _for him!_

With his hands chained behind the pillar like they are, he can't turn to watch my approach even though from the tense set of his shoulders I knew he is aware of it. Not that it matters because I step into his view soon enough.

With their placement there is at least twelve feet between the reach of her finger tips and the soles of his boots. That is where I choose to stand, as I let my eyes travel over her. "Loki." She looks so lovely, with her hand held out seeking mine. It is a pity she has to ruin it with her obvious desperation to protect him.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1300 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

"Loki please." I can feel my foot growing cold from the way the cuff is cutting off my circulation there, but I don't surrender even an inch to that as I keep holding my hand out to reach him.

The last time I saw him he refused to answer my question, saying "...this is the one truth you must remember for yourself..." and he was right. If he had told me then I was the mother of a child, of his child, I might have slapped him and would have definitely called him a liar. But I remember that now, a daughter with my hair and his eyes. I remembered that right before Clint and _...Duncan..._ took me. I remembered that and I tried to go back.

But Loki doesn't know that. All Loki knows is they orchestrated an escape, and I went with them. Loki thinks I ran away willingly and almost died. He thinks I betrayed him and he is angry, at me, and at Clint. He wants to punish Clint for it, I can see that, but I learned even more reasons that I can't let him hurt Clint during our escape, and I just need a chance to make him understand. "Please, let me explain."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1301 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

_Dammit Nora._ Watching her beg in fear from this bastard was bad enough, but then she said what might be the worst thing sentence ever in a situation like this. _Let me explain._ The response to that is almost always 'not going to happen' just like it is right now.

Instead of taking her hand like she was offering, he takes her wrist so violently she almost loses the balance she had on the other one and falls. "Explanations, yes, I think it is time for some of those, do you Agent Barton?"

My 'leave her alone' falls on two sets of deaf ears. His because he doesn't give a shit, and Nora's because she is now balanced carefully on opposite limbs as Loki drops down to a kneel on her left, and wrestles open the clenched fingers of her imprisoned hand. "Let us start with these, shall we?!" And exposed her palm to my vision.

I know Nora's hands. Touch was a rarity for a long time, but she was comfortable enough to leave them uncovered in my presence, so I know those are new. They are knife lines, and some of them are hesitation marks, but all of them are clearly deep, or were before they became scars far too quickly to make me really believe they are real. It's more the way she seems so reluctant to let me see them that convinces me their not illusions.

"Are they lovely?" His voice asks with a mocking sneer. "Do they please you agent Barton, they do exist thanks to your fine work after all." That wasn't a sentence I expected or understand, but he doesn't wait for my reaction, instead he glances over his shoulder at her attempt to hide her face from my sight. "What is a matter my dear, were you not eager to explain?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1302 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

The way Loki was holding me, my left arm and right leg were pulled taut, and I couldn't lift my right hand from the floor without falling to it which meant the only way I could struggle was to try and tug my hand free.

That obviously wasn't going to work though. Loki was stronger then me to begin with, but he had one hand around my wrist and the other weaved between my fingers and arching my hand back against my will. The combination of that was uncomfortable, but that wasn't the part that stopped my words. That part was the cold.

I don't think he was doing it intentionally. As angry as he seemed if it was deliberate I think he would have mocked Clint with it. By choice or not it didn't make the pain any less. I bit my cheek and hid my face behind his armored shoulder trying to not cry out from the way the cold seemed to sink into my little bones.

When he suddenly let go it caught me so off guard that I did fall, my weight landing on my side and my instincts taking over for a moment, making me curl around my wrist protectively and cry.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1303 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

I want to focus on her sobbing form, but as much as seeing her curl up and cry in a ball bothers me, her distress isn't dangerous. "If she will not explain then I will." What's dangerous is his approach toward me but it also means he is farther from her so I'm not going to do anything to make him turn around.

He hunkers down about a foot away from my knee, taking the time to adjust his coat behind him as he settles down. His nearness bugs me, and inspires the pointless urge in me to kick him in the mouth, and that urge only grows as I watch him wet his lips after sparring her another glance, with a gleam in his eyes that makes my bile rise.

"She bargained for your life, did you know that?" He asks, his eyes turning to search mine half way through that sentence, not satisfied with whatever words I _might_ have for him. "Yes, I think you are aware of that. She really is quite remarkable that way."

The admiration he feels for her evaporates from his eyes with a sneer. "But you and your people already knew how special she was thanks to those _butchers_ you stole her from, that is why you waited so long for her to wake up, so you could continue their work?

"We're not like..." I have to bruise my cheeks with my teeth to keep from saying HYDRA "...them" I swore I would tell Nora the truth, but chained up, and crying is not the time to tell her she was tortured by Nazi's, and I really hope he isn't enough of a bastard to do that to her now. The truth was supposed to come from me, and it was supposed to be delivered gently, not with cutting words.

"No?" There's questioning curiosity right before there's one of the sharpest backhands I ever felt "You think caging her with poison and lies makes you any better?!"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1304 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

I was paying attention, how could I not. Once I rubbed my wrist back into a lukewarm state I started listening more than just hearing, and my eyes were on both of the men in the room and in my life. So I screamed my protest when Loki hit Clint in the face, his head snapping to the side almost farther than his shoulders would allow before he raised it back in and swallowed back the seam of red coating the inside of his lips.

"Loki! No!" The links rattle against each other before the sound turns to scraping instead, and my skin protests at the digging pressure despite the sock. "No! Please stop, don't hurt hi..." Then the last letter of my words is drown under his. "ENOUGH!"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1304 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

If she flinched I didn't see it in the time it took me to turn around on her, but I see the shivers that follow it as her fear makes her wisely silent. "You have so many words..." My own soften for a moment. "but none of them are for me." Then the cold sharpens them again. "You have nothing for me."

Her eyes shimmer but her jaw has still locked in on itself, which is fine because I have not finished listing her transgressions."I have healed you, sacrificing my supply without hesitation for your benefit, and for your happiness when I healed your creature." Her injuries acquired entering my care, during my care, and in her short absence of my care.

"I have fed you and clothed, provided for your needs and wants." The only exception being her release and the sight of the sceptre.

"I have held you in your distress and watched over you." Each time she cried or rallied in frustration, and as she slept, her dreams tormenting her so much she woke with tears she didn't understand.

"I gave you control of HIS life because you valued it so dearly, I gave you that in exchange for you giving me a chance." She tried to buy that with a kiss, and then wept and screamed until her voice was raw thinking she had condemned them instead. She beat her hands against the door so thoroughly she wore skin off in her efforts.

"I exposed the beginnings of their deception AND YOU STILL CHOOSE TO LEAVE WITH HIM!..." even though she remembered glimpses of her life in Asgard and with the Norsemen, fragments that countered everything they convinced her to be truth, she let them take her.

The fact that my plans required her to go with them doesn't do much to soothe my anger, because her willingness to put her own life at risk spoke volumes of her willingness to go with them. "Loki n-no, tha-that wasn't..."

"SO TELL ME WHY SHOULD I HONOR THAT PROMISE OR ANY?!" I continue on, my words laying right over her own in disregard as my fingers busy themselves beneath the metal curve of my vambrace and produce a piece of metal with a far different purpose.

"TELL ME WHY SHOULD I POSSIBLY CARE FOR YOUR FEELINGS WHEN YOU CARE SO LITTLE FOR MINE?" I make the demand with the tip of my dagger peeking idly out of my hand, held casually but effectively in the direction of his throat.

"Loki p-please lis-sten t-to me, j-just..." That evokes a single and hollow chuckle from me. "I am listening, and I am not hearing an answer, so I will give you mine!"

"KENNA! I REMEMBER OUR KENNA!" And of the things I expected her to give me, I never thought it would be the word 'our'.


	77. Chapter 77

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1306 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

I didn't want to say it. I was trying so hard not to, because Clint was right there. Clint who was the father of his own children and understood the joy of my discovery, and could fathom the pain as well. Clint who promised to help me find my child. Clint who didn't know who the father was. Clint who would feel... surprised, sad, angry, disappointed, or maybe betrayed. I didn't know what he would feel learning I was the mother of Loki's child, but I bit my tongue in fear of the last one.

I held it right up Loki threatened to spill his blood, only then did I give into the pressure on my heart and let her name roll out. And it just kept pouring out. "Kenna, kenna, I remember, Kenna, our baby. I'm sorry I forgot, I'm sorry I ran, I was coming back. Kenna K-kenna, Kenna, p-please I just... Kenna, Kenna, my baby, our baby. Kenna..." and the only thing that stops my words is him.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1307 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

Our baby. Kenna... The weight of the dagger is still in my fingers, but the purpose has been lost with one word. _That's what..._

Kenna, Arnorasdottir. Her name means 'to have knowledge, to know', and true to her name and the mother she was blessed to be born from, she was such a curious toddler.

I hated that child. She was living proof of how Arnora would never be mine in the way I wanted so much. She would always belong to her Einharjar husband who was lucky enough to meet her first. But she was Arnora's, and I could never truly hate her as much as I wished to because of that.

I encouraged the memories of Kenna in her, because I knew Arnora. Nothing could motivate her more then her daughter, she proved that when she spat on Odin's 'generosity' and chose banishment. She gave up her home, her family, her world in the name of that child. For the memory of that child she would do anything. I expected vengeance to be in her thoughts, not this.

She calls the child ours, the name of her daughter a chant even as I step up to her, the knife shimmering away as my hands cradle her cheeks and are dampened by her tears, as my eyes search out the green behind the gleam for any answer. _She thinks that child is mine, but I do not understand why._ "Tell me?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1308 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

His hands make me shiver, but not with cold. They make me shiver with relief because they are warm and gentle as they thumb back some of my tears. Most importantly though they are proof of where his focus is fixed. On us, on me, is we both kneel on this floor and he cradles my face and searches it for secrets. "Tell me."

My first answer is touch. I'm propping my weight on my right hand since in my attempt to reach for Clint I ended up partially over the four inch height difference between the platform and the floor, so it's my left hand that finds familiarity as it rests against the softness of his cheek.

The gentle warmth of my fingers seems to spread beyond them. His expression all the way down to his posture seems to relax at my touch, his face even leaning softly into the curve of my hand as his eyes lull closed in a moment of contentment. It isn't until they open again that I give my verbal answer. "She has such beautiful eyes."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1309 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

Her words, and her touch, the way way her thumb traces the skin over my eye socket makes her meaning very clear. She remembers Kenna with eyes the same shade as mine. _Oh the Norns must hate her so to give her that memory first._

I remember when her daughter's eyes were that shade too. I remember the only words Arnora had for me then were curses. _They are cruel to make me so cruel._ I can, and will to use this to my advantage.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1309 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

For a moment his smile seems so sad, but my attention is drawn away from that by the silent way he confirms what I just said.

The first answer is with my hair. His hand rises up slowly and rests on the crown of my head before it drifts down. In its journey it separates a section of my hair, and rolls a soft curl around his middle finger with the ends of it held down under his thumb. At least until his fingers carefully slide free, leaving the chocolate curl neatly in its wake. _A little girl with chocolate curls..._

His next answer is delivered by his hand cradling my jaw as his thumb traces across my cheek. _...and plumb tan cheeks._

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1310 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

The whole Nora being a mother thing threw me, but I got over that pretty easy. This time the subject of parentage is a little harder to swallow. I thought she wanted to get back to him because he knew who the father was, I didn't think he was the father. I still don't want to think he is the father.

When Nora started letting him touch her like _that_ I decided I've had enough. "so you're better than us huh?" and made her eyes widen in a very different way. _You honestly think a game like this makes you kind!?_

"Clint no!" the combination of frightened concern saturating her voice and her eyes makes my heart hurt, but it's also not going to stop me because I can see what's going on, I can see what game he is playing, and also can see that the best option I have, the one I plan on taking, is also gonna be the one I really really hate.

"Why dont you just hurry up and do what we both know you're going to do." I never thought I'd be volunteering for this shit.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1311 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

Hearing him speak so bolding to me made me turn a scowl over my shoulder at him, but it was her soft hands that made me turn my decision around before it even finished forming.

She hand one set of fingers curled around my lapel, as if she could truly stop me that way, while the other was curled with even more care against the curve of my jaw as she urged me to look at her. "Loki, no..." Before whatever word she might have followed the 'no' taper off at the feeling of me claiming that hand.

She doesn't offer me any resistance as I pull the hand away from my cheek, or as I curl my fingertips over the side to press softly into her palm. Even when I press a kiss against her knuckles I receive no signs of opposition to it, except for the slight darkening of her cheeks. "Do not worry, I will give his life again, I know you would not forgive me if I took it now. But I can not give you your freedom, and I will not give you his."

The look of understanding precedes the sorrow, and for a moment her eyes seem to show her desire to beg, before she thinks better of it. Then her eyes find his, over my shoulder, but she can only hold that gaze a second before the tears force them closed and the first sob breaks free of her control.

"I will give a chance to say your goodbyes."


	78. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1314 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

_She's still again._ When he said he would let her say goodbye my teeth hurt I was so angry. I want the best, the nicest things for Nora, but I didn't want that. I wanted him to be mean right now.

It's a small part of me, but being selfish is a part of every human, part of more than just humans. My selfishness wants him to treat her badly, to not care about her feelings, and remind her that he is the bad guy in this situation. But the rest of me wants the exact opposite because this woman has become my little sister, and who the hell wishes that on their sister?

She tensed with a small sniff, but that was the closest thing to resistance she offered him as he pressed a kiss to her forehead before dragging his fingers over the metal on her ankle, the cuff and chain crumbling behind them.

When he repeats the motion on me it stings like someone pressed dry ice there, the cold sensation lingering uncomfortably even though the metal fell away a fraction of a second later. By the time he reached the door and closed it from the other side, both of our chains are nothing but oval piles of metal shards on the floor.

She just stays like that, even as I stand on stiff legs under me and rub the warmth back into my wrists. Even when I bend those stiff legs again, twelve feet from when I straightened them, and try to see her face hidden from me by the hair it took her almost three years to grow, "Nora?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1315 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

_I'm calm, I'm cool and collected. I'm in control, everything is going to be alright. I'm calm, I'm cool and collected. I'm in control, everything is going to be alright. I'm calm, I'm cool and c..._ "Nora?" _...cracked._ "Shut up." The whisper does nothing to lessen the intensity.

My logic was childish, was stupid and I knew it even as I grabbed it and held it so tightly it hurt. I wouldn't say goodbye, I would keep this moment forever as long as I didn't take my gift. I don't even remember being I child, but I don't think I was ever desperate enough to let myself think that would work before. Then he had to say my damn name, and all the frustration I'd been holding behind the door finally shouldered through. "You goddamned idiot, just shut up. Why?! WHY?!"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1315 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

The reaction was stronger than I was prepared for, but that just made me happy. It sounds mean, but I would rather have her angry and on the verge of tears, because at least that means she is feeling things instead of shutting everything down.

Some of that happiness diminishes behind a wave of concern though when she cuts off my "because you're a prin..." with a snarled word that is very clearly not english. "NEI!" Before reverting back to english and a command "Don't ever call me that again!"

My first assumption is that it's German, but my thoughts correct themselves even before that thought finishes. I'm not good at German but I still know that their no is 'nein'.

My next thoughts are hope and fear. There have been times Nora showed herself to be multilingual, though she doesn't remember doing it. The first time was after she woke up. Before they sedated her and got that guy's broken arm out of her grasp, she screamed in German and Russian, though when we tested her for what languages she 'remembered' she could only understand and speak English.

There were a few other times too. Polish, Serbian, Hebrew, Czech, and pretty much every major language of the people the Nazi's hated. Also what they figured was a dialect of Norwegian. They were always spoken in the throws of nightmares. She said a lot of things in those broken sentences, and while the German and Russian were usually pleas for mercy, the rest of the languages were almost exclusively her asking for forgiveness or saying 'I'm sorry'.

Nora's nightmares were memories, those memories made her speak in tongues. Nora is remembering her memories, and retaining them now even after she wakes up. I have to assume that the 'nei' means she is getting even closer to really remembering. I hope like hell I'm right on that, and scared as shit at the same time.

Her remembering means she might realize how devious or wicked this guy is, and turn against him. Which is good, and I want that, but only if she has a chance at beating him and getting away. I don't see him as the kind to take her rebellion lightly so _...God what the hell is wrong with me..._ I need to make sure she doesn't.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1316 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

"Okay, I won't..." I can see the habit almost slipping that word in, and part of me wants to smirk at that. " But what happened?" However his sentence murders that urge just like I...

His fingers catch my chin after the first inch it drops down. "Hey, no, you had to, you did good." There's unspoken knowledge in that sentence, the knowledge of a name. "You knew it was him?"

His smile is more of a tight line and he nods. "Yeah, the timing was way too convenient. Did that Scottish bastard hurt you?" This time it's my turn to nod, but for his next question I shake my head the opposite way. "Did he do that to your hands?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1317 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

The 'no' shake of her head confuses me, as much as if not more than the way she looks at those damn lines and smiles. "I..." Her sentence trails of with a soft chuckle before she turns the scars to me almost proud. "...I bought a Christmas miracle."

 _Okay, that is vaguely confusingly terrifying,_ the terrifying part because of the roots of suspicion forcing their way deeper into my thoughts. "Nora, you need explain that because I don't understand." _And please don't let me be right._

"I cried a plant." Is the answer I get, and it makes no sense, but it wasn't supposed to. I can tell, even as she continues, that this is really just her attempt at putting time between her anxiety and my answer. "It was so pretty. I wish you could have seen it, I'll sho..."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1317 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

"Nora, why did you cut up your hands?" He knows, he knew, of course he knew. And of course he is mad. I don't even need to tell him it was with his knife. That would only make him angrier with me. Everything at this point is just going to make him upset, because I didn't listen and left. Even my meek reply doesn't make him feel any better."Nat didn't say you could die okay, I had to."

"Dammit Nora." The disappointment makes him close his eyes with the sharpness of a wince, and tilt his head as if he can shake away the sour taste my actions leave in his mouth. Then he gives up that brief attempt and just lets the bitter taste of frustration fill him "Why would you...?!"

"YOU HAVE CHILDREN!" I woke up with the the frightening intensity from a nightmare, then that intensity turned to joy at seeing him alive, before it ricocheted right back to frightened at the sound of Loki's voice. Loki's voice which only ended up turning that intensity to heartbreak with his verdict 'Say goodbye'. "YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST TELL ME THAT AND EXPECT ME TO..." It was only after that when my emotions started to let go of some of their intensity. That was an illusion though because it only made room for a different kind. "WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO BE MAD AT ME, IF I HADN'T KILLED..."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1318 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

That's about as far as her words get before they turn to sounds of sobs and angry grunts as I force her into a bear hug, choking back the sound each time her half successful struggles brush against my still injured side.

The fact that she didn't have a gun when I passed out doesn't mean anything. I saw this coming. Post shooting trauma is the technical term nowadays because that's how it usually goes down, but it should really be post 'I just killed a person up close and personal' trauma.

When I woke up and he wasn't in attendance I had my suspicions, and every minute that passed without him walking in and rubbing his victory in my face made me even more sure that the fake Scottish merc got what was coming to him, and was buried in a grave of last years leaves. I was just hoping that his death was on Loki's hands, not her's.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1323 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

He took five minutes of me, 300 seconds, at least after I started counting.

I couldn't straighten my elbows out the whole way, he maybe gave me enough room to move them 10 or 15 degrees, so instead of hitting him with my fists I threw my forearms against his chest softly. My verbal protest had nothing to hinder their strength though.

"IDIOT, FOOL, BASTARD! HOW COULD YOU?! I DID THIS FOR YOU! WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST RUN, LEAVE ME BEHIND?!"

"I KILLED HIM, HE HURT YOU, HE HURT ME, HE WOULDN'T STOP, HE WASN'T GOING TO STOP!" He learned after the first utterance of it not to repeat those words. "Shh Nora, its okay, its not your fault. My arm almost breaking free taught him that "I HAD TO I HAD TO I HAD TO!"

"Your daughter, how could you do this to her?!" By this point he choose silence over response, and just held me half against my will, his arms absorbing my shivers and fury, as his hands traced patterns over my hair and back. "I did this for her!"

"Why would you come back, why would you abandon your family for me, how could you do this to me, to them?" And the volume finally finished falling from echoing intensity to a wet and somewhat breathless whisper into his collarbone. "Why, why would you go back to him?! Why?!"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1325 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

When she 'hit' a little too hard and a little close to the drainage tube still in me and bag taped to my side I decided exhaustion was the better option than persuasion. So readjusting my grip to a better one I waited her out, not that it took her long, a bit over 6 and a half minutes from the start, given her already emotional and physical fatigue.

 _Why would I go back to him?_ She's not stupid, she knew exactly what we meant when I said 'Why don't you just hurry up and do what we both know you're going to do' and Loki said '...and I will not give you his (freedom)'. I volunteered to let him put me back in the passenger seat in my own flesh again, and even I don't have a 'good' answer to that, but I do have an answer. "Because its how we both walk out of this room, Princess."

The word slips, and her dislike for it flares in her eyes even before the second syllable finishes, but exhaustion or resignation makes her permit it this time with not much more than a frown. Her bigger concerns is shaking her head 'no' and the drops prickling at the edges of her eyelids.

"Yes." I counter with a firm tone. "I know this sucks, but you know this how it has to be. He won't be talked out of it and... " The change in my tone and her confusion cuts her off. "...I don't want you to try."

"This is how I stay with you, and keep you safe." Those tears aren't just prickling any more, they're on her cheeks and in my name. "I'm just taking a vacation, I broke free before, and I'll do it again. You just need to wait for me, here with him. He will keep you safe, and when I come back, we'll find your daughter." The mention of her child makes her confusion return with a different shade.

"She's your daughter silly, I love her already for that, no matter who her father is. I'm not gonna be mad about something that happened _before._ " Nora came to us already grown into the form of a woman, so it's always been something we knew, that she had a past out there somewhere. I can't fault her for that, or him. Maybe he was a better person once, if she was really with him he must have been.

"I'm on your side in this, we will figure out what to do about the rest later. " That brings out a relief chuckle that's been stuck in her for far too long.

It kills me to send that scurrying away on its belly. "He won't let me hurt you again." I hate reminding her of what 'I' did to her back in her house, and I hate even more that I'm promoting his 'goodness' right now, even if it's true. "He didn't know I would do that before, but he won't let me do it again, so don't be scared."

"Now I need you to do something for me." _Smart girl._ She doesn't even need me to say it, or give me a chance. "No. Clint, no?!" The last no is more plea then a question.

"Yes, Nora. You have to let me go." I fail at reassuring her but I still try, taking her hands in mine and giving them a desperate reassuring squeeze. "I'm coming back. For you, for my kids, for your kid. You just need to wait."

"I can't." She tries. "You can" I push back. "I don't want to."

 _God, she is making it so hard not to cry. I can't do that right now. If I do that there's no way I'm gonna convince her._ "I know. But you have to..." I can see her refusal take that the next step toward 'I won't' before the shock of my betrayal sinks in with the sound of plastic teeth.

The zip ties were in my pocket so they were warm enough for her to not recognize them right away, and letting the weight of my hands draw hers back down after that reassuring squeeze I carefully put one of them back to that ring in the floor before I tied her to it and pretended I couldn't hear how painful my name sounded on her lips. _I'm sorry. Just wait for me Princess, please._


	79. Chapter 79

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1325 HOURS

MURILLO RESIDENCE

EVANSTON ILLINOIS, USA

* * *

DUNCAN

* * *

I woke up, which I probably would have been happy about if what woke me wasn't a foot pressing down on my chest as its owner was wrestled to the dirt and having his throat cut by another man, one who once he was finished killing his victim turned his glowing blue eyes and knife on me next.

Stuart Hattrick, A STRIKE agent that I think was trained by Jack Rollins. Bastard managed to fillet my arm a little before I took his knife and put it in his stomach a few times, the hand guard catching on the last stab, and making me change my tactic and crush his windpipe with a punch.

I didn't bother tying the flap of skin back up or even acknowledging the mess that was my hand until after I was out of immediate harm. I had bigger concerns, like the opposing forces of STRIKE versus MI-6 and a bunch of brainwashed mercs, oh and the fact that half of my vision was agonizing static.

I thought I was dead for sure. I should be dead. Somehow though I survived whatever her 'magick' did to me, which still fucking hurts, it feels like what I've heard lightning victims feel, like the moisture has been taken out of my tissue. That I'm still alive might have just been luck, or maybe it was never enough to kill me anyways I don't know.

But she beat my face in, and that should have killed me too because I know she hit me hard enough to cause a concussion before I passed out.

Most importantly though, my life definitely should have ended once the camera feed ended. Even if Sitwell wasn't looking at the feed right at that second, these things have a built failsafe of fatal voltage that burns out your brain and the circuitry. HYDRA doesn't let its dogs live off their leashes.

That kind of death was okay, I decided. Sure I didn't want to die, but if anyone had the right to take my life I guess she did, both for what I did to her in a 'God's' control and a cult's. Hell, she managed to free me from both of them for a second there at the end right before she knocked me out. I was grateful for that. Now I owe her for that.

The fact that she probably won't appreciate me reappearing in her life didn't change my mind. It won't be easy, but I'll explain everything to her after I rescue her, and boy do I got a lot to explain. That Asgardian bastard has been pulling my strings ever since he assigned me to be her guard. _I wasn't even me when I gave her my name._

It took me 47 minutes to collect an escape vehicle, and 35 minutes of those were spent trying to find shelter to clean myself up. A veterinarian clinic called Cross Pointe or something, I wasn't really paying attention to the name, just the right angle to shoot out the door lock.

I scared the hell out of the vet tech in the back, a blonde girl not much more than twenty who was feeding the dogs. I felt bad about that, and the fact I didn't have time to talk her down. I was as gentle as you can be when executing a sleeper hold, and laid her carefully on one of the examinations tables for the next shift to find.

After that the next thing I broke open was the supply cabinet. I tore open a box of Deracoxib, a supposedly beef flavored painkiller meant for dogs who had surgery, to take some of the edge off until I had a chance to get something better. I also took the first aid kit off the wall before I did the same for every purse, leaving everything behind except for a collection of cash and a single set of car keys. last on the list was a quick and very teeth grinding surgery that involved emptying a tube of superglue into the hole in my hand and wrapping it in tape. There isn't a lot you can do with a wound like that, then after 12 minutes I had wheels and pavement beneath me.

It took me about 3 and quarter hours to reach Murillo's. Maria Murillo. A mother of two, a boy and a girl and the adopted mother of her niece Angelica. 'Rojas', the name Maria's sister went by, ran a immigrant smuggling ring that I had 'strong' connections with. When complications during delivery ended up killing her I named the baby Angelica, and brought her to Maria myself.

Going to a civilian in Evanston, Illinois wasn't the greatest decision of my life, but my S.H.I.E.L.D connections weren't an option and back then, when I put her niece in her hands she was wearing her nurse's scrubs.

I don't remember getting there, my focus and general consciousness drifting after the initial discovery regarding powerlines. I almost put the damn car around a fire hydrant when I passed under the first one, and the electrical field made my eyepiece buzz. A discovery that repeated itself when I got to close to a cellphone tower.

It was a problem that was unavoidable though as I continued driving, taking detours only around the biggest cities due to my lack of time.

When I reached Evanston I chewed through another three of those disgusting things just to reach her house and even then I can only recall half the trip to her driveway clearly.

I remember waking up perfectly though. Her children were apparently curious about me, so her husband turned on the TV to draw their interest away, and before they could usher her kids toward it, I woke up and almost hit my 'attacker' who was really just a curious nine year old boy that was just standing too close.

Apparently her and her husband found me unconscious and had to carry me out of 'my' car into their apartment. Maria had the sense to say I was a one of her sister's old boyfriends, and had a drinking problem.

I apologized for the inconvenience and scaring her boy, and then I pushed the money into her hands and apologized again with a side of begging as I explained with as little detail as possible what was happening to me. I needed narcotics, morphine, vicodin, the strongest painkillers she could get her hands on at such short notice, and then I passed out again, only vaguely praising the cold towel someone put on my head.

When I woke up again my skull still felt like it was pulsing, but the sensation was more wrapped in wool then a molten ice pick, and there was an upside down smile of prickly string on my forearm where she stitched my knife wound up. The fact I 'slept' through that, and the presence of a Ninja Turtles band-aid on my inner arm suggests she gave me my first dose of whatever she bought with a needle.

She also cleaned up my face, I could feel the difference on my skin even without seeing a mirror. I could feel the curiosity in her gaze too when she looked at me. I knew from my ride here that some of the metal housing for that implant was peeking out in the cuts around my eye socket. She was curious about how that side of my face was so injured but my 'eyeball' was 'fine'. She didn't feel right asking though, and I wasn't gonna tell.

She did give me some oversized sunglasses to hide that and the bruises that were sure to come soon. Oh, and her son made me a PB and J is an apology.

That should have amused me, but I couldn't 'not' see the last kid I ran into, the one I pinned to the floor and tranqed after I shot her dad and her dog.

I gave Angelica's forehead a kiss, before telling Maria to leave the credit cards behind and gave her instructions on how to reach Felix. He was one of her sister's old men and could help her hide until all this was over, then to start packing _only_ enough for a few days drive.

After that was done I did the same. Her husband wasn't my size but some of his older cotton T shirts replaced my blood stained one, she found an old hoodie that would fit too, but I would have to find new pants somewhere else. She also gave me her family's first aid kit. With that I got back in the car, that sandwich and a carton of milk waiting for me in the passenger seat.

I made it a half hour before I washed down part of a Norco with that milk just to make it out of the city. _I'm already mourning my liver._

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1329 HOURS

TRISKELION

PRIVATE OFFICE

* * *

ALEXANDER PIERCE SR.

* * *

The static shrinks off into oblivion, leaving the logo of Shield in its place on my screen, again. I've been checking the feed myself, not that I need to because Sitwell has strict orders to contact me if the static clears, and I have other people watching for the same thing too now.

I never should have listened to my daughter when she asked, I should have just done it anyway. He may have been adopted, but she always loved him like a real brother, and my niece loved him like a real uncle. So when she heard about the train wreck, and I told her what we could and were going to do, she accepted that decision, but she asked me not to but in the failsafe. She said just to let him think it was in there, there was no way he would know any different, and it would be enough to keep him in line.

Her birthday was a week away at the time, so I let myself be swayed and said yes. Garrett assured me that the one they were putting in him was top of the line and made out the strongest and most durable materials they had. Nothing short of maybe Captain America's shield should have been able to break it. It turns out Garret didn't make it Asgardian proof.

The reason I keep checking though is that it's still recording anything at all. The eye runs on thermoelectricity, but by now, even if he wandered off and died somewhere his body would have cooled to the point that the implant would have no more power. It's still running because he is still warm which means he is still alive.

Councilman Malick, I mean councilman Boothe is gonna be unhappy about the fact that I let my emotions cause this problem. Nobody likes loose ends, especially when those loose ends have valuable and potentially dangerous information. Not that I'm too worried, there's a reason the lie about the failsafe in his head always worked up until now. He values his life too much, he cared more about that then trying to 'do the right thing' and expose us. I'm sure he still does care about that too. He isn't planning on outing us, he is most likely planning on just outrunning us and dying of old age.

Unfortunately that can't be allowed. The technology in his head isn't supposed to exist, it's one of HYDRA's secrets and has given us quite the edge on things. That's not something we want to reveal to our competition, it will raise too many questions, and create competition.

Rumlow and his team were able to confirm that he went down, but in the fighting that followed with the affected men they weren't able to confirm what happened to him afterwards, just that his body wasn't among the dead. He might still be with the Asgardians, and that's not acceptable. If he is with Loki then that creates an exposure risk for HYDRA, I don't see that 'prince' being above outing us to S.H.I.E.L.D. In fighting as an old but effective tactic to weaken any enemy, and if he knows about her then he has probably has a personal reason to do that too instead of just a tactical one.

I had such high hopes for that boy. The implant was one thing, a convenient collar to a problem I saw growing. But it wasn't the only modification I had planned. Garrett's other side project on the drawing board, the CENTIPEDE serum sounds promising, but with Alex's opinion on HYDRA, enhancing his strength to super-soldier level was unwise.

Whitehall has been improving his Faustus machine though, ever since I released him from that cell following Peggy Carter's retirement. He is confident that soon they will find a way past the visual disconnect between a camera lense and a retina. Then even a digital eye won't be an obstacle for the brainwashing anymore.

After that the failsafe bomb in the implant won't even be necessary because all that will be needed to keep those soldiers in line as the typing of a few sentences.

It looks like I'll have to sacrifice those plans for the time being, and the thirty years of work I put into honing that boy the old fashioned way. These modern enhancements are nice, but they still don't replace the need for training and skill.

That's why I started with an orphan. No father, and a mother who gave birth to him in prison. Even if she wasn't an addict who was on death row for her part in a robbery that went wrong, she had no siblings or family that wanted to take on her problems. A child with no strings that I could mold from the ground up, and if necessary cut down with minimal attachment.

Sure he has become close to his 'sister' but their not actually siblings, and eventually she will get over it. She understands the cause is important. It's just a pity I have to start over again, I'll have to start with a ten year old this time if their going to be old enough by the time I'm forced to retire. I was looking forward to doing that willingly some day. I had some nice plans involving a small island in Malta, but it looks like that's going to have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:  
> Back before Powers Boothe was cast is Gideon Malick he was just an unnamed Member of the World Council, so I gave him a name because I didn't know he would be returning. However because this is a world of spies, its easy fix, his name in the Council is just an alias, my Councilman Boothe is Gideon Malick.


	80. Chapter 80

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER EIGHTY

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1331 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

"Leave him alone Loki." I heard the cadence of Loki's footsteps change as they stepped through the door. The quick pace that spoke of eagerness slowing as his mind processed the sight, then his steps growing heavy with hostility. I only let him take one step toward the doctor I stabbed before I told him why there was blood dripping of the syringe in my hand. "I just wanted to see if I could."

Plastic stole my brother from me, my lack of perceptional awareness stole my brother from me. The wide pink scratches on the side of my hand because Clint only made the zip tie tight enough to slow me down, that stole my brother from me and replaced him with iridescent blue eyes.

They put me here. After I saw those eyes I felt nothing. Just hollow, and the pressure of their hands on my skin as a pair of men, I think one of them was the blonde doctor, carried me into this room.

I didn't know where Loki went, but it didn't matter because I knew he was near. That was enough _'You just need to wait for me, here with him'_ and too much. Clint gave up himself, his freedom, his mind, his GODDAMNED FAMILY for me, to Loki. I wanted to hate Loki for that, I felt I needed to, but I only felt that when I forced myself to, and that felt worse.

I really just wanted someone's arms to hold me. I wanted figment, a broken dream, a ghost in my head. _My god, I want a set of dogtags, stubble, and a cold hand without a name, I think I want 'him' more then I want anyone, save her. What is wrong with me._

I think I worried the doctor then because I let out a huff, that continued with a staccato pattern and a started rocking back in forth with my arms around me knees. I know I definitely worried him with what I did next.

In an effort not to upset Loki's 'woman' he was explaining what he wanted to do. Duncan stuck me with something, so he just wanted to take a little blood, and put it in a plastic container. If there was any drugs still in my system and certain colored lines would show up on the cup depending on what kind of drug. The technology was originally developed to warn people if something had been added to their drink, and S.H.I.E.L.D simply borrowed and improved upon it as a way to test in the field. He said it would be a simple procedure, and that's when I snatched his syringe.

Then first of my action I think was inspired by indiscernible panic. I knew something was horrible about those words. There was a soft echo over those words, a voice and an accent my mind didn't know, but made me stiffen like it was a snarl in the shadows.

I stuck a needle in his arm like one sticks a potato to see if it's cooked, punching a tiny hole into a man and yanked the syringe right back out, not even acknowledging or sympathizing with the fact humans feel pain. Not even when he stumbled back a step in surprise and covered the brimming red dot on his arm.

The second after it my intentions evolved into a sort of sadistic curiosity. I healed Clint, I hurt Duncan and I wanted to see what I could do to him. Now that I was calmer, now that no one's life was in danger, I wanted to see what this 'magick' I had actually was and would do. So I just grabbed his sleeve and his arm back up, his self preservation making him catch the instinct to hit me.

But nothing happened. With Clint, and Duncan, it just 'did'. All I needed to do was let part of me touch them. This time though, even with me touching his skin the blood just continued to bead as he freed his arm. _I_ _couldn't close the hole?_

Then Loki turned the doorknob and saw a bleeding man with anger on his face.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1333 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

When she stumbled out of that room, her shoulder leading from her use of it against the door, I saw the moment her heart broke at the sight. I pulled the scepter back from his chest, the shudder travelling up his spin as the darkness crowded in his eyes and faded as the glow pushed its way out.

There was pain on her face, and in her voice as her body lost all its strength, with the exception of her hand. She struck away my attempt to catch her fall with stinging force, choosing the feel of the ground hitting her knees over my embrace.

A sob bordering on a scream leaving her, before it echoed silently in the shaking of her shoulders until it stilled out of existence. It's only evidence the tears soaking into the dust beneath her.

Letting her see that was a necessary cruelty on my part. I could have easily done it out of her view, all it would have taken was the turn of a bolt in the door to keep her eyes from that sight. She needed to see it was truth though and not some trickery. She needed to see him stand there calmly and pay the terrible price he pays to make up for 'her mistakes', to give her a reason not to make them again.

It may have brought too much I noted with my own feeling of unease. The way her muscles didn't even twitch in reaction to the feel of the ungloved hands from strangers as they hauled her up to her feet. _Was her heart so broken, it touched her sanity, or was this something else?_

That concern grew when I returned to her after to checking on the preparations, finding her seated on the edge of a bath tub, with a drop of blood clinging to the end of a needle in a battle against gravity.

I placed the blame on him instantly, whether it was in truth or not, since I have no intention of punishing her over a mortal. Though I didn't know the reason she drew his blood, I imagined it was an act he provoked, intentionally or not. His 'intense academic curiosity' in her, in us, was not lost on me, even before I took possession of his mind.

But then she told me to leave him alone, and the emotional investment she filled that sentence with intrigued me. She spoke to save a man's life, but she spoke as if she was discussing produce. _Does she really care that little now?_ The prospect of that, of her disregard for human life makes me dismiss him from our presence with equal investment, my curiosity taking precedent.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1334 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

The door closed and the first words Loki spoke to me are "Arnora, may I have the syringe?" and my first words as he lightly cradled my hand, seeking permission with his touch too, are "I-I fucking healed a dying man, but I couldn't stop the blood from a needle poke."

The sound of leather shifting greets my ears as my eyes notice the drop of his legs as he bends down to meet me at eye level, and the feel of his fingers hooking my chin to make that process quicker both start after I let out something between a huff and a chuckle. The next sentence I offer him and his concerned gaze is "Am I dangerous?"

"No." He said it to reassure me, his hand shifting from my cheek in a gentle gesture, but my next sentence seems to steal all purpose out of his touch in a very disquieting way. "Then can I see her?"

 _No..._ The look in his eyes can't be right, I'm just misinterpreting it. ... _I can't be wrong, she has to be here._ "Please, I want to see her, I _have_ to see her. She's here right?" _That's not sorrow in his eyes, I'm not seeing it right._

"Arnora." It's a lot harder to pretend I'm miss hearing his tone when he says my name.

"No..." I shake my head stubbornly, pulling my hands back away from his own gently pursuing one's. "No, you can't do this to me, you can't take this from me too. She's out there, she has to be. TELL ME SHE IS OUT THERE!"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1335 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

_Of course she wanted to see the child._ I knew the question was coming, most likely sooner rather than later, just like I knew what it would bring out in her once I told her the 'truth'. "She is not."

At first she obstinately refuses to accept it, and tries to storm out of the room to search the complex herself, at least until my hand imprisons her wrist, then she resorted to what I was expecting and tried to hit me, with equal success. After that it was just a matter of outlasting her.

She struggles against me, trying desperately to wrench her hands out of mine as much as she tries to drive them into my own flesh, both efforts cripple as I manage to twist her around and put her back to my chest, with her own limbs tying her down.

After that her struggles took on a much more vocal variety, the volume of them amplified slightly thanks to the ceramic tiles and cement of the room.

I waited until she exhausted herself with both, her muscles resting weakly against mine as I held her up, and her cries wordless and hoarse from overuse. Only after that did I answer the questions I knew she didn't have the voice to ask. "She is in the Halls of Eljudnir and there is no one who can harm her. You have my word in that. She is safe and well."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1337 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

That name, Eljundir, means nothing to me, though the words safe and well bring some comfort, meager though it is. I _wanted to hold her. God I wanted to hold my baby so bad._

I was so sure I was right, I had myself convinced. Loki was just waiting for me to remember her first, and then he would bring her through the door, because she had to be here. She was probably older then I remember, I don't know how we age, just that it's slow. Maybe she looked ten. She was probably in a purple dress just like in my dream, and her hair was in braids. She would laugh and be so happy to see us. We would be a family again. It would be worth giving up my brother.

But she wasn't here, and all that hope just hurts now.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1338 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

When another minute passes in still silence I let my grip on her relax, her body slumping no more an inch before I lift her in the cradle of my arms. Now that her struggling was over I didn't think it right to leave her in a bathroom with broken tiles, chipping paint and a layer of dust from years of disuse.

In truth I found the whole complex to be subpar at best, despite the fact it suits my purpose for now, but at least the bedroom on the other side of the door would prove a more appropriate place for her to work out her grief.

She showed an equal lack of reaction when I set her legs against the crochet afghan, and then her side as I carefully laid her down, taking note of her closed eyes. I didn't believe that she had fallen asleep, but given the physical and mental exhaustion she was still recovering I thought it wise to give her that option, since I knew well enough she no longer had the disposition for a conversation.

The feel of her thin fingers curling around my wrist stop me before her words do. "Don't go."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1338 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

My brain told told me to let him leave, but my tongue was a traitor, a tiny little traitor that ran on desperation. "Please don't leave me alone." I'm begging him not to leave me in here, and I hate myself a little for the relief I feel at the sound of his boots pivoting on the weathered floorboards.

I can feel the tension on my arm slacken as he and the wrist I'm still clutching reclaim the few feet he moved in his journey toward the door. I feel the mattress dip beneath his weight too as he settles on the mattress next to me, his uncaptured hand resting warmly over the back of mine. "You should rest my dear, you're exhausted."

"I can't, I won't." There's a desperation in those words that makes him catch my chin and turn my face to meet his, the request to see my eyes granted before he asks for it.

"You're afraid to sleep." It's less of a question from him and more of a statement of the obvious. "I am, I'm, I'm... losing. I'm losing Loki, these memories, this magick, I'm dreaming of blood, and battlefields and piles of dead dog." Consciousness has a way of clarifying things, or at the least rationalizing them and I think that grey scene in my dream was a battlefield, perhaps something from an old picture or film. The 'Red' though, I only want to believe its blood, but some part of me knows whatever that color represents is so much worse.

"This 'energy', I can feel it. It's like an itch deep inside my skull, inside my skin! It's so uncomfortable, like my limbs were asleep this whole time. I can only make it stop when I use it, but I can't even do that anymore." At this he finally sees fit to interupt me for a moment.

"Your powers are reemerging after what could be decades or centuries, the feeling will not seem so foreign in time, and you will remember how to control it. You just need to be patient."

"I DON'T WANT TO BE PATIENT LOKI! I..." It's not quite a shout but the volume does elevate before my exhaustion drops it back down just like my face does into my awaiting hands. My frustration is expressed silently, and in the heels of my hands pressing into the sockets of my eyes. "I feel like there is a fight going on in my head to stay myself, and I'm losing it. I can't do this, not this way, it either needs to slow down or speed the hell up."

"I need your help." _I need a distraction._ and after everything I think that's the first time I _really_ asked Loki for something for _me._

"Arnora, Nora." His use of my 'name' here is a bit of a surprise to me, and it shows by the way he smiles softly down at me is he continues on. "I never imagined this would be easy, I know you did not either." He whispers gently as he refers not just to my time here with him but what he knows has been true for me all along. Even when I believed I was just a human in S.H.I.E.L.D I knew conquering my amnesia would be a long, painful and probably frightening ordeal.

"It is more than a memory that I love about you. By whatever name you go, and whatever person you may become now, no matter how different, my affection for you will not change. I will not abandon you."

The hand of his that brushes against my cheek has the thumb now lightly tracing against the thin line of skin just below my bottom lip, those jeweled eyes of his searching mine at the show of emotions in them, right before those emotions show in my lips.

Sometimes thinking just gets in the way. Sometimes words just get in the way. Sometimes it's just actions that explain yourself best, what you want best. I've wanted to touch people for three years, to really touch people. A handshake, hug, _a distraction_. A kiss. _Why shouldn't he be able to kiss me, the man I have a child with?_

I caught him off guard. The pupils in his eyes are still wide as I pull back my lips from his still ones, the hand still on my cheek like he forgot he could move it. I almost want to chuckle at why I know the reason for his surprise. Clint, the Kenna, I have so many reasons I should be furious, should be fighting him, but... Dammit just for once I don't want to be alone, I don't want to lose anything else, I just want to be a little selfish. I think I deserve that.

"Don't be afraid of me?" He says it like a question after a moment and a decision flashing over his eyes, even though those words shouldn't be a question at all.

I don't fear him in this, I know what he's asking, a courtesy he doesn't have because I already gave this too willingly, just now and before I even really knew who he was. I don't speak my answer, but he seems to see it anyway.

The first soft caress of cool plush skin as it tugs lightly against mine draws a soft gasp from behind my lips. It is only when the second brush happens I realize my own are moving now to match him in his efforts. I can see the smile I feel against my lips in his eyes. Then I don't see anything else, because now my eyes just want to close. The feel of his hand drifting into the hairs on my neck making me shiver for other reasons than his cold touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> If any of you check the PHOTOBUCKET albums, I was behind on posting those due to a lack of internet for a while, I was using my phone's HOTSPOT to post the chapters. Anyways, the albums for chapter 73 and onward are now up.


	81. Chapter 81

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER EIGHTY ONE

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1342 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER

INTERNATIONAL WATERS OFF EAST COAST, USA

* * *

STEVE

* * *

_Something was... Wrong._ A lot of people consider me a simple man, and in that they aren't wrong. I like things to be straightforward and uncomplicated, but where most people misunderstand me is when they think simple means simple minded.

The technology of this new century is still a bit overwhelming to me, but it's not the unfathomable level a lot of people think. I was a friend to Howard Stark, a man who made a car fly, even for a few seconds, and that seems to be something they haven't been able to do since, or at least that's what every car in Time Square tells me.

Another thing people seem to forget about me is I'm not new to the spy world. I wasn't actively in it, but some of the best information we gathered during the war was from the brave individuals who were willing to lie, cheat, and sneak their way into enemy territory, often without even a weapon to defend themselves if their cover was blown.

I also know what a secret looks like. _Loose lips might sink ships. I'm counting on you! Don't discuss: troop movements, ship sailings, war equipment._ I remember posters like that and more. Just like we had people in enemy territory, all over Europe, and even in America there was the concern of enemies and sympathizers with open ears and good memories.

It was an atmosphere of paranoia, and it wasn't one I was immune to. Even if the intelligence world moved on and got more complicated in my absence, I still know what cold shoulders, stone walling and furtive glances look like.

Part of me understands it was an issue of clearance. While it was S.H.I.E.L.D who found me, housed me and provided me with my document and bank account since I woke up, I'm not actually one of them. Ever since I woke up, I've just been Steven J. Grant, a civilian trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life now.

The Director said he was willing to wait for me to decide if I wanted to get back into the field, or not. That was until I was the only one left alive who had any experience with a very powerful and stolen item. I'm a 'consultant' here as far as they are concerned.

But I'm not asking for files, I'm asking for information about my friend, and after the last agent said he didn't know anyone named that, and then a minute later someone else occupied his station before he walked out of the bridge, all I can think is something I thought before. _But nobody tries to avoid talking about someone who doesn't exist._ And the dread is settling like cement.

 _No, Nora is okay. This is just a big organization, so not everyone would know each other, and that man leaving was nothing nothing to do with Nora, I'm just falling into old habits. I'm just not asking for the right people._ Nora told me she was only a level one, but she also told me that after I looked for her, her S.O sat her down to make sure she understood 'Captain America's' importance. She said his name was Phil something, I just need to remember what his last name was. She used first names most of the time, but I'm sure she said it once, I think it started with a K. The next agent stopped, I ask if he knows any agent named Karlson.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1344 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER

INTERNATIONAL WATERS OFF EAST COAST, USA

* * *

NATASHA

* * *

_Karlson, wow he is getting really close._ "Attention all agents there is now no agent Karlson anywhere in S.H.I.E.L.D, if that's your name get creative."

Now that everyone has been squared away, I'm standing in the hallway overlooking the bridge with a gatorade in my head, a bluetooth in my ear, Agent Coulson ordered to remain at my side, and Steve Rogers in both our view.

I can't help but grumble at how stupid this all is, because honestly it's only a matter of time before he remembers the name he is looking for. Phil introduced himself when he picked up Rogers at the airport, and the closeness of his last guess makes it pretty clear he was told it once before.

Nora wasn't supposed to use last names outside of S.H.I.E.L.D personnel. There are a lot more Phil's, Clint's, and Natasha's in the world then there are Coulson's, Barton's, or Romanoff's, but Nora also was never truly trained as an agent.

So when he does remember, Phil unfortunately will have to stop hiding, and go tell his hero a lie of omission.

Once we were airborne, it didn't take Fury very long to make the doctor comfortable enough to start getting to work, and then my job as an escort resumed once again. Since Banner spent a good portion of his adult life being anywhere but a government facility I had to help him find the right place, and then I also had to stick around while his team got comfortable with him.

We selected a small team of agents, four, with various skill sets in the scientific field to help Dr. Banner. He would be doing most of the work, but they were there to be extra hands, and to speed up the process. They were also nervous as hell, both with a degree of academic hero worship, and the the memory of the Culver footage.

But once I was sure no one was going to pass out or pee their pants I quietly slipped out to let the scientists get to work. My presence isn't exactly a comforting one.

That and I knew I had my own meeting to get to. There was a certain gleam in the Director's eye when he told me to show Banner to his lab, and I knew I was in for a talk. The figure of Agent Coulson at his side made it pretty clear what the topic was going to be.

The council found out about our 'breaches of conduct'. His when he sent me the files about Nora's kidnapping, and mine when I discussed my 'sister' with Dr Banner. They were not happy, and if we weren't in the middle of a potential global catastrophe, we would probably be facing a suspension.

Not that I'm too worried about it, because if Fury really didn't want it to happen, the first byte that file transfer would have burned my clearance in the system, and it wouldn't matter what device my fingertips touched, I would be locked out from everything. Fury knew just like we did how motivated the Captain can be if it involves his people.

Unfortunately the Council does too, but while we think it will make him try harder, they think differently, and to avoid the Captain acting recklessly, they intend to remove him from our 'response team' if we persist. They would rather arrest Captain America then let him rescue his friend.

They don't want to prevent a repeat of history, and I understand that. But I think they are underestimating the fallout they will have on their hands because of this. Nora is one of the first, if not the only person he has really connected with since he woke up. If he finds out we hid this from him, after the fact, if something happens to her. We're probably going to lose Captain America for good.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1346 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER

INTERNATIONAL WATERS OFF EAST COAST, USA

* * *

COULSON

* * *

Tapping a short sequence on the handrail again I finally succeed and fight down my obsessive behavior. Captain Rogers is still going to be there even if I take my eyes off him for a second and beside, its just a ticking countdown to when Agent Romanoff tells me I _have_ to go talk to him again. How did things go so wrong that I actually don't want to do that.

Instead I distract myself by pulling out my phone and reopening the browser history. I still have a small charm in my pocket that's been weighing me down, and its intended owner takes up my focus rather well.

Nobody really knows what happened to Miss Elaine's pet. The agent I fired for failing to find either of them didn't know, and since then the team that secured her home and removed all the evidence connected to us hasn't learned anything either. That's why I've been checking my phone.

While I was able to adjust her privileges to allow her to keep the cat Captain America gave her for Christmas, I wasn't able to adjust S.H.I.E.L.D's policy on animals in general. All domesticated animals, rather they be personal or government property are to be spayed/neutered, microchipped, and vaccinated.

It's the microchip that I'm interested in. While I consider the kitten to be a national treasure, I couldn't successfully get it listed as a government animal, so I wasn't able to add a GPS tracker to the requirements, which would make it much easier to collect the lost frightened stray.

However since he was microchipped, if any kind soul finds him and has the sense to scan him for a chip, then that information will be put up on the microchip lookup site and all I need is the microchip number, which I memorized even before Miss Elaine did.

"She told me you were attached..." The fact that I missed the start of Agent Romanoff observing me is only mildly noted and filed away with little alarm, at this point I expect as much and would be more disappointed if her skills fell so far that I actually did. "...I didn't think it was this serious."

"Well, he is very cute." I add back in my defense and angle my phone so she can see it easier. "Did you know she framed me a picture?"

"I do." She lets the words roll out before she goes even farther and plucks the phone out of my hand completely by the top corners. "I heard she had the Captain in it. You planning to auction it?" The offended edge to my incredulous tone is impossible to smoother.

"Absolutely not." That's like auctioning the statue of liberty, you just don't do some things.

"I also know you bought it a present." The fact Natasha knows about the trinkets in my pocket doesn't surprise me either, though it does make me a little uncomfortable because she probably knows I bought the collar around Valentine's Day, _it was on sale. That doesn't make it make it weird at all, and I was waiting for a good time to give it to her._

I also know that's Natasha's way of asking to see it. The charm and collar are quickly exchanged for the return of my phone.

That trade also buys thirty seconds of respectful silence as she lets her fingers trail across the woven threads and smooth plastic. "The collar might be a little small now. When we get them back..." She starts as she returns the collar to me, the charm jangling softly as it lands in my hand. "...You're giving her that right away."

"Yes ma'am." I nod in agreement as I wipe off the fingerprints and carefully fold it back inside its handkerchief, unaffected by the slight raise of her eyebrow and subsequent smirk. The next window I open on my phone I Google as I start scanning for a larger version of the collar, and decide to buy multiple sizes this time so the cat can grow into them.


	82. Chapter 82

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER EIGHTY TWO

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1448 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

There is a softness to the wood resting against the bare skin of my back, alternating stripes of polished planks and air registering distantly as I sit in the abandoned rocking chair, my body testing the strength of it as my conscious tests the strength of my resolve.

She shifted recently in her sleep, the movement stirring the dust, and the sunlight streaming into the room making it shimmer in the light that reaches out to touch her skin. More than six hundred and twenty years I have wished for a sight like this, and for six hundred and two I consigned that desire to the realm of impossible.

I knew her for less than a quarter century, yet somehow she fixed herself in my mind so completely in such a short amount of time. Mother once said I was so obsessed with the idea of her because the the idea, just like her, was something unattainable. And mother may have been right, then. But I 'attained' Arnora, and I want her no less now that I have her.

She did not stir when I left the bed and reclaimed my trousers. A cantrip, something Asgardian mothers use to help restless toddlers sleep through the night, and physical exhaustion made it fairly easy for me to slip out from under her arm, the only reaction to my absence was a shallow stretch before she pulled on the blankets and snuggled with those instead.

She said she was afraid to sleep, or specifically she was afraid of the dreams sleep would bring her and I understood that. I also knew though that she would need to recover as much strength as she could for what was coming next, and while the cantrip could not guarantee she would not dream, it was designed to give whoever it was cast upon a deep and peaceful sleep for is long is their rest lasted.

It is a pity I did not know a trick to force peace on a waking mind, I would prefer such thoughts to the troubled ones I have.

My nature is suspicious, even before it became 'spiteful and malicious' according to my detractors, it was always suspicious. I was a Prince, and even if I was the second born 'son'... _Damn Odin for being a better liar than I_... I was still a Prince. I was a means to further other's aspirations, the good favor of a Prince could get you very far in life.

My nature is still suspicious. When she asked me to show her what love was like, I had my doubts. I had them too when she said she believed that child was ours. My nature had me looking for her deception, it kept a small part of my mind dedicated to that task, studying her every action and word for the signs of a lie.

But when she whispered she loved me, in the very bed she sleeps in now, _after what she gave me_ , there is no doubt in my mind of her sincerity. _My Arnora may be many things but she is not that kind of woman._ No, the doubtful creature occupying that corner of my mind has been replaced by a disgusted one, and it aims all of its judgement at me.

She loves me. I have had her for three days, and I have made her love me in such a short time. She has given me something I have never thought I would truly have, and outside this room there are preparations underway that I still have not cancelled. Preparations involving her.

I have captured Arnora, but I still want to claim the 'idea' of her. I want to own her magick too, the woman who loves me is still not enough. But can I really do that to her now, have I fallen that far?

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1450 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

I think it was the sound of a knock at the door that was actually what woke me but it was the softly hissed words "If you think her worthy enough to be the last thing your eyes behold, then by all means, continue to look." That really made my consciousness reammerge.

I don't recall the moment or act of falling asleep at all, which is in stark contrast to the fact that I remember 'everything' else with stunning clarity. Remembering however isn't where my focus is at the moment, it's on the fact that I can feel the breeze stirred by the door opening all the way down to the small of my back.

Gathering the stiff sheet to my chest I roll over and shift into a sitting position, carefully wrapping the excess around me in an attempt to reclaim the modesty my unconsciousness swindled from me.

Loki proves an even greater guardian of my modesty then I am. No doubt having realized I was awake after only a single breath, I find him back at my bedside by the time I finish maneuvering, and his fingers tracing a quick line over a loose end of the linen.

The cotton starts moving on its own before even a millimeter of air fills the space of his retreating hand. It isn't as impressive as when he transmuted the Ball jars into wine glasses, but I think that is just a matter of his annoyance translating into impatience.

The weave of it tickles over my skin as it slides with an almost liquid quality over my shoulders and across my legs as four corners form and interlock into two loops over my stomach before I can feel the strange tingle of his magick evaporate out of the fabric, leaving it somewhere between a toga and a kaftan.

It's only after Loki holds out his hand to help me up, and presses a kiss to those same fingers in an affectionate but not particularly possessive gesture that the man who he threatened amount ago finally dares to speak, his timing not only appropriate if he wants to continue living, but his tone as well.

It's the blonde doctor who looked after Clint and Erik, probably oversaw Clint's surgery, and who I stabbed with all the consideration of a boiled root. He wisely keeps his eyes averted, avoiding Loki's angry gaze and the sight of so much as my ankles as he apologies for walking in on me while I was exposed like that.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1451 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

TERRANCE

* * *

I knew even as my eyes were tracking toward the bed that it was a dangerous decision, though decision implies there was some control behind it.

I knew Agent Pierce had some history with the woman, just like I knew his father considered her incredibly valuable to HYDRA, even before she ended up being kidnapped by the alien prince our unit was loaned to. That's about as much as my clearance level allowed me to know, but I knew other things, mostly through guesses.

If she was important to HYDRA, then there must be something unique about her, perhaps she was an enhanced or empowered individual. Something HYDRA intended to exploit for their own purposes. That theory was strengthened when an invader whose best course of action was to run, took the time to forcefully collect her, and then again when Alex said we had to steal her back from a 'god'

A god who ended up catching me by the throat and almost putting the tip of his spear through my ribs when I made the mistake of struggling. Since then I've been very aware I'm not dancing on my own strings, but I don't mind it. _There is so much knowledge in my head._

For my part in the ritual he has planned, he showed me what she really was, what he was, and the physician in me is fascinated. The potential advancements we could make if we could study them! Disease, infection, tissue degeneration, all of that would be a thing of the past. Cancer would cured in a matter of weeks. Forget bionic hearts, new organs could be regrown within patients while they slept, with no need for invasive surgery! And that was just scratching the surface of her potential!

That's why when I saw her, sleeping so quietly there in that bed, with that scar running up her back I couldn't help it. The Red Skulls HYDRA knew that the medical breakthroughs they could achieve through her would be outstanding, which is why they cut out part of her spinal column. But their methods were so crude and primitive they almost killed her taking those samples, if I could have her on my operating table today...

And that's when his eyes noticed where mine landed. I may have just been thinking as a biologist, but I was staring at his woman as she slept naked in his bed. His anger wasn't a surprise.

Her smile and acceptance of my apology was though. If she knew, if either of them knew the thoughts in my head, I wouldn't be breathing right now. Her ignorance is actually doing me a favor. That and her affection. "You're Clint's doctor aren't you?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1451 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

When he knocked, I was willing to forgive him for that mistake because there was no way he could know what mood he was disturbing me in. I was forgiving too when she started to wake, even if the degree was lesser. I could not let her sleep forever, even if I spoke in whispered tones to delay the inevitable. But when his eyes trespassed, sliding slowly along the skin that dipped beneath those sheets I very much entertained the idea of hollowing out his eye sockets.

Her head thankfully is the cooler one. While I still have it in mind to mutilate the man, there is a logic to her forgiveness I have to concede. If I continue viewing them as expendable resources, I am going to run out of people capable of completing the work I need done, and mortals are very easy to kill, he would likely not survive such maiming.

After that I intended to find out why he bothered us in the first place and send him off immediately. Those plans changed to patience however when she asked about Agent Barton. I owe her the right of those questions now, and I myself am curious on the subject too, since I still need him healthy for the next set of tasks.

"Yes ma'am. He's doing fine." He no doubt throws in the honorific as an act of repentance. "The bullet to his side missed his ascending colon and small intestines. It only required some stitches. The bullet that went through his leg also missed anything important, though there was minor inflammation from the lack of disinfectant, we put him on an antibiotic though so that will clear up soon."

Since I never let go of her fingers I can feel the small tremor in her hand at those words, and steady them with a light squeeze of my own."The biggest issue was his lung. Most of the bullet was embedded in his shoulder blade but a small fragment of it managed to pierce the bone and was cutting the top of the lung when he inhaled. We removed the fragment, and inserted a drainage tube through his ribs. Now we just need to wait for the fluid to finish draining."

While he continued talking I let my gaze drifting down to the bruise on her wrist, the pattern of it making its creation very clear. "What about Erik?"

"Dr Selvig is fine. He actually is why I came, he wants to see you, sir." At this he hesitates to add more, unsure where the line is about how much she knows, or if there is a line at all.

"Tell the Doctor I will come find him soon." The HYDRA operative is smart enough to recognize the dismissal for what it is, and with a respectful nod to Arnora, that may double as another apology he shuts the door quietly behind him.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1452 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

The latch had barely finished clicking into place before Loki's fingers woven into mine lifted my hand into view, and then trailed down my skin to settle into a set of shadows that lingered from last night.

He doesn't stop there. Even as his left hand does that his eyes contain to move over me, and eventually they guide his right hand to push back the shoulder of the 'dress' I'm in, another 'shadow' stuck in the skin of my collar bone. "I hurt you."

"It's just a bruise Loki." His response to that is a tense expression in silence, before he pushes the cotton farther, passing it over the curve of my shoulder, revealing four light scratch marks and at least two more fingerprints. "I was too rough, where else are you injured?"

"Loki, really, it's fine." I try again, and I can practically read the reprimand of my name just through the arch of his eyebrow alone. "It's only a few bruises. I'd rather you heal Clint's wounds than waste your supply on something that small."

His expression settles to neutral in a moment of surprise at those words, then the expression shifts lower to something between sadness, amusement, and shame. He lets out a frustrated breath, that changes its tone with a tight smile for a moment. "Those words were spoken heated, but not sincere."

His steps are soft, and so are his eyes as they rest somberly on the bruise his fingers left on me last night. Those fingers are soft now too, and warm as they slide beneath the cotton to cup the slope of my shoulder, the side of his thumb trailing a caress over the base of my throat. "If I use it for you, then nothing is wasted?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1453 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

My plea is answered by the way her eyes close under the feel of my skin ghosting against her's, and the way her head drifts unconsciously to the side, the movement making the cotton surrender another inch of her tan skin to my sight.

The vision makes my lips hungry for the feel of her skin against them again. I feel like a man who has been walking through a desert before the ground cracked beneath me to drop me into an underground lake.

I feel half a millennium younger. I want to scoop her up in my arms again, and loose myself with her back under those sheets. I am searching my mind for a way to stop time just so I can spend it memorizing her skin. But I know she would not welcome it again, not this soon, not after _that_ doctor reminded her there was life going on outside these walls.

I hate him for that too, for reminding me what I want to do and what I need to do are very different.

My first brush of my finger makes her flinch a bit, the goosebumps explaining the cause. I summoned up a stone and after crushing and cradling its dust in the palm of my hand, I coated my index finger in it to paint over the marks. In my distracted state of mind I let the spell that warmed me fade, leaving my skin markedly cool to the touch.

I barely reclaim a few of those lost degrees before she tells me to stop. A soft smile as her expressions answer to my own confused one. "You don't have to do that, the cold isn't painful, it's just part of who you are."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1454 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

He took two breaths without blinking, a flurry of emotions in his eyes and then the next thing I knew there is a wide tingling smear of the stone sinking into my shoulder as he was kissing me again. The kiss was soft, but it still caught me off guard enough that my body immediately took a half step backwards before his other hand and the tension of his arm pulled me back against his chest.

I forgot how much acceptance matters to him. Raised to hate a race that he was part of, the fact that I don't loath the coolness of his skin must seem almost divine to him. _But I would rather have him as him, then an imitation of something else, something I can deceive myself with._ I remember his reaction when he showed me his real skin, he looked like he was truly waiting for me to be sick at the sight of him. It's heartbreaking to think how horrible his life must have been.

Bringing my hands up to cradle his face in them seems to be taken as encouragement on his part. The fingers at my waist pressing deeper into the small of my back, making me curve farther into his invading form. The coolness of his chest finding its way quickly past the cotton into the skin of mine, something he doesn't miss by the soft shiver of sound that follows.

It isn't until I feel myself lifted up, his hands adjusting their hold onto my hips as the knobs of the dresser press into the back of my calve, and the leather pants against the inside of my knees that I consider and act, my hands leaving his face to press carefully against his chest. "Lo-ki."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1455 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

She spoke my name, dividing it distinctly into two syllables, but I heard what she really said. 'No, not now, please stop, Loki no.'

The male in me has its own opinion. _Ignore her, keep going, you want this, you can persuade her, it is okay._ It is probably right, I am no stranger to how easily hormones and the right touches can change a person's mind. But she is not some court whore, not someone whose opinion I can disregard and whose body I can claim on a whim. The very thing my desire would have me do now, on a linen chest no less. "I am sorry."

"It's okay." My cheek takes comfort in the warmth of her neck as I force an end to the kiss. The way her hands are trailing reassurance over the ridges of my back have less of the calming effect she is probably hoping for, but I will not say a thing to stop her caress, I am too selfish for that. "I understand."

I chuckle at that a little, the breath rebounding off her caramel flesh and ghosting back over my own before I lift my face to her's, each of my hands pulling hers from behind me so I can place a kiss on her knuckles. "Of course you do, you are very good at that." Then those hands serve a different purpose as I step back a pace and pulling lightly help her slide off the dresser and put her feet back on the floor.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1456 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

I barely finish arranging the 'skirt' back into a modest arrangement before I feel the magick tickle my skin again.

This time the former sheet shifts into a crisscrossing pattern of wide folds over my torso, that covers my shoulder while leaving my collar bone exposed, even if it slopes to the left and the waist rises in a triangle. The skirt portion of the dress is an evenly floor length drape of slightly whiter thick cotton with no split to be seen. Either Loki was no longer satisfied with his earlier transmutation, or this is his attempt at something more modest.

"You didn't have to." The statement comes out automatically, perhaps in part do to my lingering practical view on clothes and money, but it's met with a bit of a smirk from him as he continues to appraise his work on my clothes, and the return of his own. "My dear, I am not known as a paragon of self restraint."

 _Right, because I was wearing a bed sheet._ The next sentence I utter is filled with embarassed sense, which is better late than never. "Thank you it's lovely."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1456 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

"While, you are wearing it." My verdict draws the color out in her cheeks in a delightful way, her embarrassment rising despite the truth of the matter. A beautiful dress is only as beautiful as the woman who is wearing it, and while it is not the hue I prefer her in, the style of it evokes pleasant memories of our past.

"Now I need to go see what the doctor called me for." But as much as I would love to reminisce I lack the magick to stop time. I have things that need to be done, and a Titan with monsters to appease.

"Please eat..." Her gaze turns from mine, drawn instinctively by the shimmer of magick on the night stand. A decanter of Jiafanjiu, a ceremonial Vanir wine gifted to me from a nobleman is sitting there along with a tea set and warmer to serve it properly, and another bowl of 'Idunns' apples. "...and drink something while I am gone."

Her curiosity at this addition to the room held her attention for a moment, but not longer then she realized I was planning on leaving. There is a moment in her eyes that looks like hesitation to let me, rather the idea of being alone upsets her or the idea of me being with them does, I do not know.

"I will return as quickly as I can, and... I will heal your 'brother'." This time the emotions in her eyes are plain. Relief and gratitude. Gratitude that earns me more than words. Rolling onto the tip of her toes slightly and using my arms for support she gives me another kiss, one I cherish even as I force myself to keep it short.

Before I shut the door, both to the room and a point in my life I ask her if she would like a bath when I return. I play at normalcy as I make promises to arrange for hot water, and insuite the idea of company while she washes.

I can feel my will to see these plans I have for her crumbling every second I linger in her presence now and if I do not force myself away the last three days of preparation will have been for nothing.

The blond doctor who interrupted us earlier is waiting for me silently outside the door, patiently waiting for me to lock it before he chooses to speak. "Should I tell the medical team to cancel the preparations?"

"No." _She said an apple is what the Devil used to trick a woman and bring sin into the world_ "The ritual will proceed, she will be ready very soon." _Now I am using one to trick her, to sin against her._


	83. Chapter 83

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER EIGHTY THREE

* * *

 THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1457 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

 NORA

* * *

"Well, you are wearing it." That sounded so... juvenile. That thought is both hilarious and sad. There was such a young, unskilled quality to that sentence, like a teenager just hearing of the concept of flirting, and pawing desperately to piece together pretty words.

I wonder if he said such a thing to me before. Loki's made it clear we knew each other, but other then saying he didn't know me as a child, which could cover any age, he hasn't told me how old we were when we met. I wonder if he too nervously scrambled for words to enamour me, before we became adults?

My amusement then fades in the wake of that reminder. I have bruises on my skin. There was nothing juvenile about what we did. The marks on my shoulder are gone, I can feel the difference now that the sensation from the stones has faded away, but the rest of them still remain. I can see the bruises on my wrist, and I can still feel the ones he didn't notice, where his fingers gripped the curve of my hip.

I didn't know that would happen. Even in my head that thought sounds so stupid, I mean, what else would happen? We were alone in the room, in the bed, and I let him kiss me. I thought... I didn't think actually. It was strange, the decisions were made without making decisions. Things just kept progressing, bit by bit, until I was on my stomach underneath him, and his hands were holding me down.

The decanter Loki left is beautiful and heavy is it finds its place quickly in my hands. The container is gourd shaped with a slender neck and a curved handle. Its made of silver, and heavily engraved in a design that reminds me very much of something Persian. The carved elephant on it makes that impression even stronger, though the creature under the elephant is a bit unusual. Its head matches an elephant, but the body reminds me more of a long tailed gazelle.

Given that Loki left it, I'm assuming it is some kind of alcohol, that is if precedent still holds. I'm also assuming, as I pluck out the silver stopper and take a tentative sniff, that whatever it contains is something special or expensive, I can't imagine Loki carrying around something that was brewed in someone's kitchen.

The scent of it doesn't mean much to me, reminding me quickly of my lack of experience with alcohol, as I imagine the taste won't tell me much either once I get around to it.

For a moment I hesitate to fill my mouth with the liquid, because my eyes and curiosity are occupied with the tea set. The inquisitive turn of my thoughts slowing down the desperation that was driving my pace. This is a piece of home.

It's a beautiful tea set, the spout of the teapot carved to resemble an elephant's trunk marks it as part of a set. Though, it seems almost rustic in comparison. Not because it lacks decoration, for it too is rimmed in carved silver and seated with stones of coral and turqoise, but for the stained wood that makes up the outer walls of both the sipping cups and pot. It even has a cast iron candle warmer to set on.

That part grabs my attention even more, this time in confusion. Wine, teapot, and warming stand are all here, but there are no candles or matches left for me to use. Loki left everything in the set but what I need to heat it, or maybe he did?

Running my fingers over the cool metal of the iron does nothing, proving my idea that it might be activated by touch to be false. Or at least false when the touch is flesh. When I repeat the attempt by setting the base of the teapot against the stand I am rewarded with the tiny crackle and flickering glow of a flame. So even Loki's tea set is enchanted. There's something adorable about that.

While part of me wants to just uncork the bottle and drink, another part of me respects that if Loki bothered to leave these items behind, I should probably use them. At the very least drinking it warm, the way it seems to be intended, may make the taste less unpleasant.

After I fill the teapot quickly and set it back onto its burner, once again seeing the flame spark up and smiling softly at that I find myself with another question. How do I know when it's warm enough? Though that question quickly answers itself when I notice the size of the flame shrink down drastically after a few minutes. It seems the set isn't just enchanted to create fire, but to control the temperature as well. I don't know if that is complicated magick but to me it's certainly impressive.

Other than the heat I now knew to expect from alcohol I didn't have any idea what to expect from it, not that I cared too much anymore. Though after the first notes of it sank into my tastebuds I was treated to a sensation of warmth that sank into my sore muscles gently, and an aftertaste that reminded me very much of some variety of melon.

After that it was eclipsed for the moment by the taste of one of Loki's apples. I intended to drink more, not waste it in the plumbing.

* * *

 THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1500 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

 LOKI

* * *

There were several reasons this location was chosen, while having been abandoned for a little less than a decade, was the secure defensible nature of it, as well as the underground delivery bay that would let us finish assembling the portal machine and prepare it for transport. The one that is most important to me however was the existence of a medical wing, stocked with equipment, even if some of it was slightly antiquated.

Those facilities will be necessary for the ritual, and even as Agent Barton and Dr. Selvig, approach my other doctor is overseeing the sterilization of the environment and equipment. The more 'mystical' aspects of the preparation will be dealt with later by myself.

Another reason this location was suitable is its proximity to one of Midgard's ley lines. Every planet has magnetic grids traveling along its surface, and with the occasional rare exception, these are where spatial anomalies occur most of the time. In a place called Iberia Ohio, about 220 km away from here is one such pathway which connects to a location 42 km from Stuttgart, Germany. Then from Dettingen an der Erms it will be a simple matter of acquiring a vehicle, and ultimately teleporting inside the building.

We could have chose a closer location to the pathway in Iberia, but I decided to keep this base distant on the very unlikely chance S.H.I.E.L.D would consider searching along those lines. Things have progressed far too well for me to fail simply because I assumed the mortals wouldn't consider the metaphysical. After all they were forced to acknowledge the possibility with the 'God of Thunder'.

The ley line will also make it easier for me to project my illusion to the location. The mortals methods of travel take much more time than mine, and I don't want to be kept waiting there forever, also the gala I intend to disturb will not continue indefinitely. As long as one has the destination in mind, an experienced Seidr user can project an illusion great distances. Mother was able to project hers to me across the universe, and this planet is much smaller than that.

* * *

 THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1501 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER

INTERNATIONAL WATERS OFF EAST COAST, USA

* * *

 COULSON

* * *

It took Captain Rogers three more guesses at my name before they stopped being just similarities. I knew it the same time Natasha did because of the matching headset in my ear.

That still didn't stop me from swallowing with an uncomfortable combination between excitement and apprehension. It also didn't stop Agent Romanoff from grabbing the opportunity. "Looks like you're up Fanboy." But her jest turned to sympathetic understanding. "You want me to continue the keep away, we have secure rooms to hide in." I hated the idea as tempting. Between Natasha, the size of the ship, and a few instructions spoken via bluetooth, we could have kept the Captain one step behind 'me' with a game of 'you just missed him' for at least another half hour.

I decided not to be a coward though, especially when I noticed his searching gaze had stopped on the location of us as we hung out in the cat walk. Once that happened it was a bit of a relief, because it took most of the decision making out of my hands. The catwalk was walled in nothing but glass, so even if I tried walking the opposite direction now he would just simply change his to meet me, and he was closer to the staircase then we were anyways.

It's a pity the gatorade Agent Romanoff offered me and I declined wasn't filled with something else, because maybe if I was slightly intoxicated I wouldn't make such a fool of myself.

Surprisingly the conversation went rather well. After he reached out and shook my hand, and I successfully resisted the urge to freak out about that, I asked him what he needed me for. That seemed to catch him off guard a little, until I lightly tapped me ear as a reminder of the capabilities of modern phones. Even if the bluetooth isn't invisible, it was on the opposite side of my face, and is still new enough to him that it fell into the out of sight out of mind rule.

The rest of his memory is quite sharp, sharper than mine even. "I'm looking for information on a friend of mine, I remembered you were their S.O last year, as early as May 11?" He even remembered the date, something I didn't until he mentioned it. Oh god, she told him about the don't break Captain America speech!

"I was the commanding officer of a few Agents, Captain, what was her name and rank?" Those details skirt my attention as I divert most of my focus to not blushing in mortification over that last thought, and hiding that intensity beneath a facade of thoughtfulness.

"Agent Elaine, Level 1..." After I regain control of my blood pressure a bit I turn my gaze back to his. "The name sounds familiar, but if she was still a Level one she wouldn't be here. In a situation like this, all Agents under level 3 without an necessary area of expertise, are required to submit themselves for evaluation, and relocation to the nearest S.H.I.E.L.D security center.

The arch of his eyebrow makes me elaborate. "The name sounds bad I know but it's more of safehouse then a prison, I promise." Then before he can ask and in an attempt to buy us more time to rescue her I continue talking with my very next breath. "I'd be happy to track her down for you, but it will take a little time, would you like me to pass on a message?"

"I'd actually like to talk to her personally?" My wince is half genuine, because without the weight of the guilt I still don't like refusing Captain America. "I'm afraid that's not possible." Seeing the tension in his eyebrows makes me add a quick "At least not right now."

"Standard protocol. There is no outside communication until the quarantine has been lifted, it's very unlikely with this situation, but those safehouse store weapons and S.H.I.E.L.D tech too, we can't risk someone from the inside sharing information."

The disappointment is about as clear as a brick, but after a moment I can see him shove it down behind a stern face of practicality. "But she will be okay there?"

"Yes sir. I've been to once before, their Spartan, but you get a twin bed, and footlocker. The bathroom is shared but they room you with an agent of your gender and level, and meals are served every four hours."

For a moment it looks like he is going to voice something, but then the Agent nearest us mutters as he starts the next batch of facial imagery out of Germany and whatever those words were fall silent in the place of a resigned "alright" as the Captain shuts himself back off behind a stern expression and the guarded wall of his arms across his chest.

I have a master's in reading body language, and seeing those ques on my childhood hero is just upsetting. But I don't know what to do about it. I can't tell him the truth, because Fury is standing right there and I know he is listening to every word I am saying, But I desperately want to do something to distract the Captain, at least for a little while, from the thoughts I know are of friendship and sacrifice, but what can we talk about? I know the Hero, I don't know the man.

But I do have my set of playing cards... They might remind him of WWII and just make his painful reminiscing worse but then again, the only other thing we could talk about is her, or things that involved her, so I suppose WWII it will have to be, or at least technically Vietnam. "So did you know the VFW released a set of Captain America trading cards in the 60s?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> My original rendition of Coulson in this chapter came out much more childish than the fanboy-ish that i was going for, so I rewrote it and hopefully removed the majority of that. However if any remains I apologize.
> 
> My fan theory regarding Coulson's beloved trading cards is this. They were released is a 20th anniversary of WWII / fundraising effort by the VFW during Vietnam when donations were low due to the dislike of the war.
> 
> Lastly if anyone is wondering about the Ley Lines, according to Google Earth and the custom map I downloaded for that, there are actually Ley Lines in those locations. Loki uses them much like a road map or a compass when he 'teleports' long distances, and the pathways (thor the dark world) form most often along these energy lines. (I say most often because I haven't checked the locations in the movies for ley lines, and this is my theory, not the MCUs, so this way any science they add later won't entirely cancel mine out.)


	84. Chapter 84

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER EIGHTY FOUR

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1504 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

I knew it would not take long, once she sank her teeth into one of the apples it would only be a matter of minutes, and when I returned, a little less than twenty later, I found my estimation correct.

The partially eaten apple greeted me before she did, having traveled across the floor almost theatrically from where it rolled free of her slack fingers and her hanging arm.

Just as there are spells to help a restless child sleep, there are similar spells of greater potency.

 _Her trust would have been better placed in someone else._ She never even thought to ask if those apples were really of Idunn's trees, and she was not acquainted enough with the taste to know the difference. Idunn's apples hold so much magick they would have nullified any enchantment I tried to place on them, these were just apples, and enough magick to render even Thor unconscious for a span of days. _She will need it, the ritual will burn through it quickly._

I find a small measure of relief that she apparently ate slowly enough she was able to seat herself before she passed out, her body draped over the edge of the bed instead of collapsed where she stood on the floor. The fall would not have harmed her, I doubt at this point she would have even formed a bruise from it. The real apples of Idunn I did feed her, and the exposure to magick again have begun restoring her to her former strength.

It is more that I do not wish for her discomfort, as hypocritical as that is.

Agent Barton is currently taking care of the preparations for his mission in Stuttgart, packing weapons and equipment into transportable containers, choosing which of the mercenaries he wants as his support team, and planning our route and transportation for when we arrive in Germany. Once the healing magick of the stones finished sinking into his flesh he seemed to have even more energy then when he tried to kill me at that broken base.

As for Dr. Selvig, well, he is eagerly assembling pieces of metal in anticipation for the materials he requires to truly make that machine work.

I kept my word to her, even though the very next thing I did was betray her, and my intention is to do it again, even as I stand here next to her. _I could just let her sleep, I could just tell her she must have been more exhausted then she realized._ She looks so peaceful, like she detected nothing suspicious in the the fruit. _I could just leave her like this. I could just risk losing._

They say this ritual was made for, and by monsters. It was never favorably looked upon even when its use was considered tolerable, but under Odin's rule, _being the hypocrite that he is,_ it was a practice punishable by death and all the records of the ritual were supposed to have been destroyed. My knowledge of it was gained accidently, I found it hidden in a book of what Midgard considered alchemy, that I brought back as a quaint souvenir meant to amuse me.

It did not survive long in Asgard, when I realized what I had I gave the book to Frigga immediately. I am sure she destroyed it herself since I heard nothing else about it and received no punishment for my possession of it. _I_ _can be a little bit of a monster if it will keep us safe from an even greater monster._

Her weight is a pleasant torture as I roll her carefully onto her back and slip my arms under her knees and shoulders. Her head rolls too and it rests against my unarmored shoulder. It makes the temptation to press a kiss against her hair irresistible, not that I put any effort into it.

If there were eyes on us as I carried her through those hallways and up those stairs I did not notice. I barely acknowledge anything beyond the beautiful woman in my arms until I found myself inside the doorway of the surgery suite.

When I was shown this room originally it was quite a mess, not that it mattered for the preparations I placed. Around the permit of the room I erected a barrier to contain any wayward energy that might escape my control. Given the type of magick I intend to use it is unlikely, but this magick is also known for its unpredictability so I would prefer not to take any chances. I also raised a barrier to contain the sounds within.

They have cleaned the room, or at least as much as one can with a building in such a state of decay. The debris that had been decorating the wide and worn square tiles has been swept away. Though more is waiting to cover it again when we depart, the pale green paint curling off the walls almost in anticipation.

Beyond that, the original furnishings of the room are three metal cupboards with glass panes for the doors. Despite their age they seem to have held their sheen as if in defiance of the decay around them. They are joined by pieces of 'modern' medicine. White trays with sealed instruments have been set on old carts as they wait to be opened and poles that are even more reflective and decorated with plastic bags of liquid, two that are so full of dissolved healing stones the mixture within is opaque.

The ritual is intended to be performed in the presence of mistresses of the healing arts, but in the absence of those I am hoping that two hundred healing stones administered intravenously will be enough. It has to be since the only healer I have is the one I am performing the ritual on.

They already have the operating table prepared for her. The series of thick white plastic straps and metal eyelets waiting to lock her in place hang casually for the time being, the quantity of them so thick I can barely see the actual surface beneath them.

It is a thirteen point restraint system according to Terrance. It will be secured at her ankles, knees and her thighs. Her wrist will also be bound, and straps will be tightened across her shoulders to prevent twisting. A thick strap will hug her waist and there is even a collar for her neck and a strap that will sit against her forehead. She will be completely immobilized in this device. I had him acquire it even though he assured me the anesthesia and my magick would be sufficient.

One of the humans, a face I did not even care to drag up from memory made the mistake of offering to take her from me and start fixing the restraints. It was only the way he recognized his mistake mid sentence and apologized with a nervous swallow that saved his life, that and the fact I did not want to free my hands of her long enough to kill him with them. I was savoring the last few seconds I could allow myself.

After ten more seconds the table ends up holding her weight more then my arms are as I lay her down. I steal a few more from the universe as I brush the stray hairs back in place, hating how she still looks so trusting in her sleep. Then making a minor adjustment to the dress to accommodate the straps for her thighs I start locking each restraint gently into place.

When I am finished I finally allow the humans the luxury of touching either of us. The one the Mind Stone conquered for me lightly wipes the inner curve of her elbow with an antiseptic to prevent infection before he slides the needle for the IV into her vein and opens the valve to start the drip. He repeats the process with the substance he called Sufentanil.

The sleeves of my attire dispels first before the rest of my upper armor follows when he finishes prepping the second IV of healing stones for me. I am not going to go through this ritual unscatched, and the needle sinking into my vein, or the human skin putting it there is the least of my concerns right now. I am more concerned with waiting for the prickle of the magick to sink deeply into my muscles before I begin.

My IV is not joined by a second IV of anesthesia, and his hand retreats quickly, not out of fear but to slide the cart of equipment within reach now that I'm tethered inconveniently by this pole.

The most important item on the tray isn't the tall stack of clean linen squares or the large bowl for used ones, or the mouth guard that I carefully insert between her teeth to keep her from biting off her own tongue, but the addition out of my own collection.

The blade I wove all the necessary spells into. Midgardians may need a vast array of tools and and substances to perform magick, but on Asgard the process is much more utilitarian.

I remember buying this blade, though I can not recall where the trader said it was from, only that he collected his wares from all across the nine realms. I did not buy it for its origin but for the unique shape of its blade. It is double sided, but on the top the blade only travels half the length of the bottom.

I intended to use it as a carving tool for making small wood golems and the difference in blade sizes would allow making their appearance more refined without needing two knives. Now I am using it because it splits the skin of my pointer finger and lets my blood coat the blade.

As I wait for my blood to bead heavily at the tip I steal another kiss, mourning the way her lips don't move against mine. Then I place one of apology over her heart before I touch the other side of this blade against her skin and drag it across, a line of red that is not my blood alone opening in its wake.

The matching burn igniting on my own skin as the binding proof that its real. It will be the first line of many and it only takes five minutes before she starts to cry despite all our preparations.


	85. Chapter 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER EIGHTY FIVE

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1514 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

NORA

* * *

I felt like a rubber disk, hooked and pulled in too many different directions, and shattering into shards of glass.

I can see myself, I can feel my pieces, as the edges of me tear myself apart.

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I am in a wheat field, cowering in the hopes of mercy because I just insulted the a friend of the Prince, in the presence of both of Odin's sons, as my throbbing ankle is hidden beneath folds of lavender silk.

There is a pair of black boots stepping out of the saddle and a sardonic voice in my ears "And how do you think I shall do that Thor? An incantation? Shall I draw runes on her skin? Or perhaps, as they do on Midgard, I should fix it with a kiss, though I hear that turns them into frogs. Would you like a frog leg my dear?"

* * *

ÍVIÐIA

* * *

I am in a forest. The scent of pine is clinging to the air, just like the last of the oak leaves are clinging to the trees.

They cut down trees with their axes to build me this platform and they brought me a bull. The beast is nervous, just like I am, not because of the knife in my hand, but because of the Northmen's drums.

 _I have never done this before._ I can feel it dying, frightened and confused as I slit its throat and takes its energy, the blood more than the bowl can possibly hold.

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I am in a yurt, standing in a sheer robe with fertility blessings drawn in gold henna on my skin.

They erected the tent for me, for us, for our first night together as husband and wife. The furnishings are gold, and the fabric is lavender, in honor of my husband's colors. They are my colors now too.

I can feel his presence behind me, but I am too nervous to look. I have never let a man touch me like this before, and I can not make my eyes move off of the carved bird in the bed post as I feel his hands slide the robe off my shoulder. "It does not always hurt. I will take care of you."

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I am sitting in a chair. My family is with me, but they are not allowed to approach me yet, not till the evaluation is over.

I am fifteen now, so I sit silently even if all I want is my father to hug me and tell me it will be alright. Eir is in front of me, her hand is right there, hovering an inch away from my skin and she looks at me without her eyes. She is the matriarch of my family, and I have never been more terrified of anyone then I am of her right now.

 _What if she does not feel it? What if I do not have our family's magick?_ She smiles and kisses my forehead. "Breath child. you will be my Heir Arnora."

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I am lying in a bed. My 'sisters' are around me. The woman who practice the same art as I do, students and mistresses of healing. Eir and Myrun. My teacher and my friend.

"Push, now." I have never felt such terrible pressure! Myrun's hand takes every ounce of punishment I give it even as my strength gives out and I throw my head back with an exhausted cry, a cry that is joined by another smaller one. I can see a hand before it is swaddled in cloth. "You have a daughter, Arnora."

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

I am in a box. The walls are transparent, the floor is stone, and the bespectacled man on the other side seems to think my desperate clawing is worth writing down!

I can not breath! I can feel my lungs growing heavy, they are trying to protect themselves by secreting a mucus barrier, but they are drowning me because I can not make the muscles of my chest expand to draw a fresh breath. I can feel my heart struggling too, the muscles losing their ability to contract, and it is not the only one. Soon I will not be able to move at all!

He told them to make me beg, but how can beg if I can not breath?!

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I am a child in a man's arms. "Can I have a story Papa?" Mama may have already told me a story when she put me to bed the first time, but then I woke up and went down to the kitchen for some sugar dates before papa found me and gave me some warm milk tea instead.

He left his braids in his hair tonight, I can see those from the way I am laying my head on his shoulder and toying with the ends.

"I will tell you about Odins ravens, but first how do we ask for things?" I feel him chuckle softly before he says that as he carries me back up the stairs. "Please can I have a story papa?"

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I am a woman in front of a black sphere. In front of two actually, but the one on my right is not ready yet.

"Are you sure Arnora?" I nod again, looking over my shoulder at Loki with a smile before I turn back to the incubation chamber. The fetus inside has developed enough that his eyes now register light so we shielded the sphere to prevent its distress.

"Yes" I offer as I reach out and pluck the projection back up for Loki to review himself. "His weight is within the ideal limits, we have cleared the third trimester and have had no complications. I administered the final immunizations 12 days ago as well. I would put the chances of a spontaneous abortion at less then 5 percent this time, that is the lowest we have ever achieved, Loki. What should we name it?"

The way his eyes shoot up makes it look as if he never even thought about naming this species. "What do you think of Fenrir?"

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I am a shy young woman. "Arnora, I have someone here I would like you to meet." Climbing the stairs to my home I hear those words greet me as I open the door.

My father is sitting near the central fire with an Einherjar and bottle of mead between them, marking this occasion as a personal visit and not a professional one despite the polished state of his armor. "This is Lieutenant Randulfr, son of the retired commander Havardr. I have given him my permission to court you."

My father did not need to say anymore then that, choosing to leave instead so I could get to know the man who wanted to marry me, the man whose silver key I returned from our walk wearing.

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

I am my own sense of mortality. I woke up, holding his hand. I fainted with James holding me, and I woke up, still injured, with his arms still around me, still alive and warm.

I did not rip the life out of him in my sleep, as my body desperately sought the energy it did not have enough of to heal my wounds. I did not kill James, and I wept, because that meant I was not going to get out alive with him either.

They were going to kill me here, in these walls. They were going to kill both of us, and this time when James kissed me not knowing how else to stop my tears, I kissed him back.

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

I am listening to his voice. "...and Steve, he is such a stubborn punk..." My clothes are in tatters again, they only replace them when there is not enough thread to keep them on me.

It is why I am wrapped up as much as I can be inside of James' shirt. He insisted, and called me a stubborn punk to when I said he would be cold.

"...I found him sitting under the overpass with a busted knee waiting out the rain cause he didn't want to be an inconvenience, I had to piggy back the proud jerk, listening him complain the whole time about how his mom shouldn't worry so much."

_I want to meet this 'punk' he speaks of with such warmth._

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I am clawing at shadows. I opened the door, I had done it enough times before that it should have been nothing, I even knocked, though I did not realize the sound never made it to the other side.

When I received no answer I simply opened the door, knowing I was allowed in even if he was absent, and then I felt a 'hand' wrap around my throat.

It crushed the air out of my esophagus before I could even fill it, and the figure I could not see beneath the cloak was strong enough to lift me to the very tips of my toes! It did it with magick, not flesh! I felt no flesh!

"Perhaps killing a servant of the All-Father's household is not the wisest choice." Loki was right there in the room, and he looked so calm as I struggled. "Unless of course you have decided to draw his attention now?" At least until the 'shadow' chastised him to train his slaves better before it dropped me and vanished, leaving the spell that continued to suffocate me in its wake.

Loki's cool expression became as panicked as mine and his hands bleed before he tore the curse off me and ordered me to say nothing of 'who' I saw.

* * *

ÍVIÐIA

* * *

I am goddess, at least to them. I just wish they would leave me alone.

I am still sitting in the mark of the bifrost, where I have been since Heimdall did his duty and acted out Odin's banishment, where one of them found me and brought others. I will never see my mother, or father again. I will never hold my daughter again.

" _If you renounce your intentions to resurrect your child, if you forget these delusions of shadows and murder, I will allow you to remain in Asgard and to continue your service to the realm. What say you?" "I hope it comes back and takes you first."_

I hate them all, every last fool loyal to Odin! I hate these mortals who will not leave me to my grief. I hate that I do not have enough hate to do anything other then just sit here and hope I die from time.

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

The sound of the door woke both of us, iron scraping against iron as the pin shifted in the cylinder.

They were here for me again. I knew it by the heavy clothes they wore and the suits that exposed no skin. I knew this was going to be it, I had nothing left to give. It was as much of a relief as it was frightening.

I just wanted to kiss James goodbye but they were pulling use apart, and then one of them produced a baton. I heard the wet echo and saw his pain as his knee strained the wrong way before he tried to hook his fingers under the helmet and tear it off to give me something to work with. I saw the other one produce something that wasn't a baton.

I did not think it could feel colder then the first time, but these bullets hurt more. Not as much though as the sight of James turning toward me before his eyes rolled into the back of his head as the baton cracked his skull so hard it rained blood, and the wielder followed him down to the floor blow after blow!

* * *

ÍVIÐIA

* * *

I am unskilled. "I can not save you." The woman can barely keep her eyes open, the dim light of this hut is too much for her to handle with the strength of her headache.

I came for a new wagon wheel, and some iron nails from the blacksmith and I should have left when I made those purchase, but the kindness in heart lingered. I have not been able to drive out and I saw the suffering of the sick A plague had laid its hand on this village, and though I knew not how to heal with disease, for we did not have it in Asgard, I knew how to ease pain.

This woman's husband was dead in the next room, he died a day ago but she did not have the strength to deal with the body, she could barely manage the weight of her own. She would die too within the hour and I knew I should leave, but the baby crying in the next room just will not let me do it.

"I am sorry. I will take care of your son." She never even found the strength to tell me the boy's name.

* * *

ÍVIÐIA

* * *

I am failing. I protected this boy, my Skári, my little viking lord, from the plague that took his mother, I protected him from Christians who want to harm him simply because he was with me, I protected him from Lorelei by doing as she told me, and I am failing him because he got bit by a rat and I do not have the skills in disease to know how to save him from this illness.

All I can do is watch these black boils slowly steal the life out of him and try to ease his pain. I am telling him that he is on his way home to the land of the elves, and will all be better there, and he will never feel loneliness or pain again. _I just wish I could follow him there._

* * *

ÍVIÐIA

* * *

I am content, and its the best feeling in the world.

"Móðir? Why don't I look like you?" I was able to get some honey today from a Moorish trader, so I have made the barley porridge that Skári enjoys so much and one of Ormarr's customers traded a small boar to get his plow sharpened. There was too much meat to eat tonight, but I carved off a fresh portion and the rest is being smoked as I stir the pot over the meal fire and watch Skari wait eagerly for the answer to his question.

"Why do you not look like me? Well...because when you came into this world, the Ljósálfr took one look at you and decided you were so perfect that they wanted you for themselves, so they kissed you thinking they could trick me when your hair and skin started to glow." I will tell him the truth when he is a little older.

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

I am not sorry. "That...?" His expression starts out confused, before it shifts to restrained anger. "That night, during the storm when you held my hand, and I sang to you. You weren't scared and looking for comfort, you were trying to heal my pneumonia weren't you?"

I tell James "Yes", as if the scratches in his skin closing was not clear enough already. "Why would you do something that stupid, if you can heal?! Why would you waste it on..." But all that frustration burns right out of him with the next whispered sentence. "Because your eyes are like my son's!" _Because I do not want to lose those again!_

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

I know this is going to hurt. The material looks like leather, it always does, and that makes it so infuriating that I can not do anything to it, because it is not leather. It is something synthetic I am not familiar with and it lets them touch me without being in danger. It lets them grapple me down and haul my kicking and crying back towards that monstrous chair where they cuff me with metal.

One for each of my wrists and arms, one for my chest and a stockade that leaves my bare feet at the their lack of mercy and those red hot branding irons.

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I am learning. "You almost have it." I can feel his form at my back as he observes my efforts over my shoulder.

When Loki first suggested I learn temperature manipulation techniques I was against it because creating fire has no practical application for a healer, but then he made it an order.

"I can see the energy concentration, you have it contained but now..." He pauses a half a second to bring his hand around me into view. "...You need to quicken it to create the spark, or all you have is heat." In his own hand a flame much like a candles flickers to life before he releases it with a wave of his finger. "Here, put your hand in mine this time, so you can feel what I am doing."

* * *

ÍVIÐIA

* * *

I am protective. "Put the boy down, or I will put another arrow in you!"

The voice I hear is neither from the direction of the man I just shot, nor from a male at all. Even as I pivot around I already know who I am going to see. "Now that does not sound like you at all, little healer." _Lorelei._ "It seems your time amongst the mortals has has changed you."

She asked me to use my magick for her once, to heal her men, but she had no leverage with which to make me then. Now she sent a man to kidnap that leverage out of his bed. "It is good to know somethings have not changed though. You adopted such a _lovely_ boy."

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I am shamed. The lady who greets me, dressed in a simple gold gown with a high necked cowl is very nice, she asks me if I have lost my way. The way her smile drops though when I hand her my scroll makes my own excitement drop with it. _Why does she look worried?_ So does the way her eyes travel to the door and back to mine before she takes me lightly by the shoulder.

"How old are you child, 14? 15?" I nod to the last one making her smile again but sadly. "You should go back home, you do not want to be here, I will say you never..." But she does not finish, the sound of the door opening silences us both, and she falls so quickly into a bow it almost seems like it should have hurt her.

"Ah, Jorunn, you found the girl, good, I was beginning to think the mongrel would not show." I was to endure words like that for the rest of the day. "Yes lady Freya."

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

I am in agony. "Yes sir Dr Zola, I've checked the equipment, and I've already doubled the dosage once. She continues to wake up in the middle of the procedure..."

They made me special restrains when they realized I could disintegrate the leather ones. Steel bars formed to the contours on my body and coated with something called Buna-Rubber, they were quite proud in their explanations. And then I woke up with my thigh cut open, a pair of scissors with metal hooks digging into my muscles to keep my natural healing ability from closing the wound. The sight of a man in a white mask pulling his bloody fingers out of my leg.

I scared him when I started screaming, so they shoved more of this rubber in my mouth. "...Despite the anesthesia. I could raise the dosage again but..." A new voice, a worse voice. His voice.

"Don't bother doctor. I doubt that we have an anesthesia strong enough to sedate her kind anyway. Using it would only be a waste of resources." _No, please no?! Please!_ "Yes Herr Schmidt."

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I am heartbroken. I had been looking at the blue tapestries we have hanging in our main hall, but now I was I was looking out the window to the right of me, and the sheer curtains rippling softly in the window. My mother just walked up and hit me, but all I did was come home?

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" My father is in the hall with us now, wrestling my mother's angry fingers free of my dress. "DAGNY! STOP! SHE IS YOUR DAUGHTER! STOP!" As I shuffle backwards slightly, my hand hiding the burn in my cheek. "I KNOW SHE IS MY DAUGHTER! That is why I am so angry, I did not sacrifice to the Norns just for her to walk right into that fate?!"

 _Sacrifice to the Norns?! No, my mother, she would not..._ But my father's face does not say I am wrong. "You?... You sent a man to death for words?!"

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

"Ahh..." The sound of leather snapping against metal is what seemed to draw his attention to me. I woke up with a start, the itch still lingering in my stomach from that strange projectiles he shot me with, and a different one on my arm. The black bar there catches my attention because it is not a bar. It's a series of numbers.

"...Good. You're awake. I just received the report on your village, would you like to see it?" _My village, I have no village? I left it behind._

They are shades of grey but they are clearly pictures, of death. _I can see my cave, I remember those rocks as I walked inside._ The mouth is filled with corpses, all facing the now empty ice. They killed all these people, and I never even knew!

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I had barely even turned back from shutting the doors before I felt Loki's frustration, his magick pulsing out with enough force to break the legs of a small table and carve gashes into several of his prized books before it hit me in the stomach and sent me stumbling back.

He seemed so calm when Odin ordered Freya to give up her daughters in marriage or give up her comforts in Asgard, unless you knew his eyes as I did. He never dismissed me afterward, and as his servant that left me no choice but to follow him back here. I know if he were calm he would not want to damage his books so I went to pick them up, and made the mistake of speaking in my distant cousin's defence. "I know lady Sigyn my lord, she is sweet and kind, she is not at all like her mother."

I should have stayed silent. "AND SHE IS NOT AT ALL YOU! You who I would choose had I half a choice!"

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

They had dogs with them, trained to attack, rather that be prisoners, intruders, or victims for their master's entertainment. A herding breed with a blanket of black fur and a black muzzle over a tan coat, and pointed ears.

They were lovely animals, and under all their master's cruelty were actually kind, they just wished to please the monsters who owned them. I felt that when they came close enough to lick the blood off my weak fingers.

Dogs were always easiest. I could not make them forget their masters but I could make them consider me part of their pack. So when one of the guards hit me for being unable to stand, he had his calf torn apart.

That was the only time they let me see their dogs. _I was trying to kill the doctor._

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

The chatter quieted slowly, and then with the greatest of speed. Even the sound of clinking goblets and cutlery died out.

Every eye in the banquet hall following those of their neighbors as they looked at me, cradling my bleeding cheek, and Freya's drunken laughter. She scowled in disgust at the sight of my blood on her golden fingernails, and demanded I get her something to clean it off, lifting her hand again when I did not move to do so.

The sound of hand meeting skin this time has nothing to do with me. Frey stood above his sister and it was his handprint that pinkened her skin. "Sister dear, with the greatest affection, if you lift your hand to her again mine will strike you to the floor!"

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

They dragged him out. I tried to hang onto him, to keep him with me, but with the burns covering my feet I could barely manage to stand, and his own hands were refusing to let me hold onto him.

He knew if I did not let go they would start clubbing me so he smiled and said it would be alright even though we both knew that such a thing did not exist in this place. Then I heard him screaming, as the lights flickered in my cell.

It did not take them long to drag him back in and throw him at my feet, his body limp in their hands and his eyes were glassy even as I rolled him over and cradled him in my lap. They keep trying to wipe his memory and it never works, it just ends with me holding him. His life prolonged, selfishly, by my magick where so many others have died from this treatment. "Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. 32-557038. Your sister is Rebecca, you are from Brooklyn. Your name is..."

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

He said his name was Johann Schmidt, he said the small and unimpressive men at his sides were called Heinrich Himmler and Arnim Zola. A general, as I understood it, and a doctor.

They presented me with food and clothes, finery and pageantry, and growing sense of disgust. The more they talked, the more they looked at me, there was something foul with the way these men thought. They wanted to create a 'purer' race, as if there was something wrong with the 'old' one.

I made my first mistake there. I underestimated them, I miscalculated how much Midgard had changed while I slept. I realized that as blood started pouring out of the holes in my stomach and the object in my greeter's hand issued smoke.

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

"Unless of course you would prefer to stay in lady Freya's service, and let her offer you to her brother?"

Prince Loki sent a messenger to call me to his hall, and while I was not his servant particularly, I did serve the house of the All-Father. I only finished greeting him before he told me I would no longer be serving in Freya's hall, but his.

My shocked silence seems to be interpreted as an objection, but if it was one, it did not remain so after that sentence. _Freya intended me for her brother's bed?!_ I knew nothing of the true character of Lord Frey, only words on courtier's tongues, and those were seldom without their bias. "No my lord, it would be my honor to serve in your hall."

* * *

ÍVIÐIA

* * *

It started with a bear. I left that clearing, and the mark of the Bifrost. I walked off in the night with no eyes to watch me but the chicken I left behind. I decided to live, but on my terms. Withering to death would let Odin win, I would forge a life, and never settle for the scrapes of his mercy, I would never ask to back go to him. But I lost my first home, a roughly constructed hole in the hillside to a bear.

So I walked away from it, hoping to find a better place for a new one. I found men. Hunters, with a few dead seas at their side as they sat around a fire. I was cold, and hungry and dirty. They offered me food.

They offered me drugged food. I could taste it in the contents of the cup. The mushrooms were not strong enough though, not for an Asgardian. I did not understand the darkness in men. When they realized the drugs were not working, they abandoned their gentle plan of waiting for me to pass out, and choose an aggressive one instead.

The rope around my neck dragged me off the log I was sitting on, and when I started to scream as they tore my dress they started to scream too. I did not mean to, I did not know I could! I did not want kill them but they all died clawing at their skin in agony, and I could feel them under mine, the terror in their last seconds and I started screaming again, and drowning in tears.

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

"I would like you to undress." The ease with which Loki said that has the wine pitcher shaking in my hand, and I very nearly decorate his trousers with the contents.

I do not think the shock or moment of panic are hidden on my face, though I do not know which one he sees more. He is my prince, and even though I am engaged if he truly wanted no one would think the lesser of him for having me, only of me.

"It is not what you think." There is a look of surprise and apology in his eyes, as if he did not realize what he said until he spoke it. "Your magick is different than mine, I need a better understanding of how yours works before we can continue. There is a revelation charm that will let me study it, but I need to draw the runes on your skin." And then he waits for me to break the silence.

"How many are there?" I ask so I can know how much skin I must give him, hoping an arm will suffice. "Quite a few." I end up giving him the nakedness of my back instead.

* * *

ÍVIÐIA

* * *

"I know nothing of your heaven and I have no interest in your absolution."

I went into a town, something I wished to avoid. After Lorelei disappeared I fled the last one before I decided to kill the other 'witch' and I have avoided them as much as possible since, but there are things in the towns that I do not know how to make on my own. I simply wanted to make my trades and go, and then two men were at my back, telling the me the 'Father' wanted to see me.

A Christian holy man, finding that his god would not take care of him after a lifetime of service decided to buy healing from a 'Pagan witch'. If his infliction were something other than a body riddled with syphilis I might have helped him.

When begging did not work he had his men try a crossbow, and dogs. And when those did not work he incited a mob from the Christians in the population, until one of the Northmen quartered a man's head with a hammer in my defense!

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

Something was wrong. I woke up with dread, and a sense of familiarity drawing the sweat out of my skin. I felt this energy before, and with its dim caress on the wind in comparison I still know it. I felt it crush my throat as it left me to die on Loki's floor, how could I not know it?

But it did not touch me this time, and I find that more terrifying, because I was not alone in this bed, and my baby should be crying!

I could not get her to wake, I could feel her getting cold, and her lovely blue eyes that she got from her father are a cloudy aqua green!

I ran, scooped her up, tying her to my chest with the torn strip from my nightgown and I rode the fastest horse we had in our stable to the palace. Loki knew the creature that did this, so maybe Loki knew a way to save her!

But Loki was not there when I took the servant's path into his hall. So I started tearing apart his books instead in my desperation. _THERE MUST BE AN ANSWER!_ Right up until I heard his voice say my name. He looked surprised and confused by my presence, I was not his servant anymore after all. Then he looked shocked when I ran right up and kissed him, careful of the body on my chest.

"Please you have to help me, I do not what to do, please Loki please!" And then I saw the sorrow, right before I saw the guards and my baby was ripped away, left behind with him as I screamed. _He thought I was a thief._

* * *

ÍVIÐIA

* * *

There were men at my home. I built a new one, a better one than the one I lost to a bear. Experimentation and the skills I learned in magick helped me craft rough tools. I built a home, albeit small. I built a pantry, this time separate and far from the house itself, in case of more animals. I even manage to collect and transport wild plants from the forest into a garden. And I just came home to find it full of men, performing chores and a redhead reclining on a bed of furs.

I know this woman, because I know her sister. I can see Amora in her face. She was more then happy to give me her name, Lorelei, and less then happy with the idea I thought she was sent by Odin to check on me. She was not there to look for my repentance, she was there to recruit me.

I had been wronged by Asgard, did I not want to get my retribution? I made an enemy when I refused her, I did not want anything to do with Asgard, least of all to draw their attention as she bewitched an army of mortal men. I watched that home burn and I walked away.

* * *

ÍVIÐIA

* * *

The winter was creeping in, I could feel it in in the ground I sat on, and see it in the dwindling crowds that visited me. The humans still thought of me as a Goddess, but I was a Goddess that just sat there, and they had more important things to do with their time then watch a statue.

Only a woman came today. She brought a chicken with her, and a restless child. The child was crying, and I hated him for it. That sound cut deeper the blade she intended to use to slit the chicken's throat. She only made half the cut before she dropped the blade in shock.

I stood, the Goddess who moved for no one else now rose, and picked up her child! The boy was healthy, but as boys do, he had scraped his legs learning to walk, that is why he was crying, and why he stopped when I healed him.

She ran back to the village to share the joyous news, but I imagine all they found when they came back was a very bloody but very alive chicken because I walked away.

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

I woke up warm, dry, and furious. I closed my eyes to ice and the desire to die. I opened them to a painted ceiling and the feel of unfamiliar cloth on my skin. Someone disturbed my rest, and I woke up against my will, finding it appropriate to touch me without my permission!

I was just as furious at that audacity as I was by the confusing fact I did not die. The first person who came in the room had the misfortune of being a male and not speaking a language I knew. When he drew what I recognized to be a blade, he died for it, and when his companion reached for something as well I turned my magick against him too. He was half dead and beyond help by the time someone arrived who knew my language.

Johann Schmidt.

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

Fenrir is restless on the leash, he has never liked them, but he still sits obediently at my side as I scratch him behind his ear.

Most of the fur he was born with has fallen out, with the exception of his brown mane and the ridge that follows his spine down to his tail. It make him resemble the rock trolls whose genes we used in creating him.

Loki with us, his face neutrally cold. Once Odin proved he was unimpressed with the breed, Loki lost all affection for the animal and left it to me to raise. My cousin Frey is with us as well, who granted me access to the old Vanir halls of knowledge, which helped us succeed in creating Fenrir, the first of his breed. We are waiting for Tyr, Odin's general, and a man with a reputation of apathy. This was Odin's decree.

Ferir is a puppy, even if he stands at the middle of my thigh, I have been teaching him how to sit, and stay, but he has not learned heel yet, and he does not understand that he needs to go with the man who takes his leash. He tries to return to me, who he think of as his mother, and when he makes the innocent mistake of growling Tyr hits him so hard he yelps.

I did not even realize I moved until the hand locked me in place. It is not Loki's voice that tries to comfort me. "This is Odin's decree." It is Lord Frey's. "You must allow this."

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

"But when she's left alone and they are far apart She sometimes wonders what tomorrow brings."

There were bars in between us, but that did not seem enough to stop James.

When I pushed my arm past them to his side, his surprise too that was obvious, but he did not waste any time. The metal makes it awkward but he is sitting at an angle on his side, and has pulled me flush to his, my head resting against his shoulder, as his other arm wraps around me and his thumb traces circles into my hand. He even started singing for me, the hum in place of the instrumental opening is felt more than heard.

"For she adores that crazy guy who taught her happy heart To wear a pair of silver wings."

 _He does not understand. He thinks it is the storm that has disturbed me, not the sharp crack of his cough or the scratches on his skin._ "When we get out of here, I can't wait to see your hair grow, your gonna so beautiful, I know it, a real sheba." _...When you get out of here._

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I knew Loki had been gone, he and his brother left with a company of Einharjar to deal with a problem on Vanaheim. A herd of Bilgesnipe infested and rabid had been terrorizing the villages in their territory and needed to be put down. I knew it did not go well the second I opened the door and was ordered to prepare a bath.

His skin was mottled with bruises, and I could see the tears in his tissue, where one of the beasts hooked him by his shoulder. He flinches softly, the water ripples around his waist as I study the wound and start to heal it, my hands massaging the magick into his skin. The muscles are strained more than torn, but it is still a wound that will take some time, and a session that does not end when I start to lift my fingers away from him, and feel his lock around my wrist.

The last time Loki touched me like this, he kissed me. The last time Loki touched me like this he was not half undressed in his bath, and I was not married. The last time he touched me like this I trembled just like I am now. The absence of his grasp lets the blood warm my skin again.

"Summon a Vanir courtesan and leave."

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

"I am his servant, why I should I not be loyal to him, he is our Prince and it is my duty to come when he calls me!" "And it should be your duty to come when your betrothed calls you too, not return with excuses why you linger in the company of another man!" My hand still stings from where I hit him, even a hour later.

I have been walking, moving unnoticed by others on the street who are caught in their own lives, it only takes a lowered head to go unseen. Vanaheim was calling my heart, Vanaheim was where I always went when I was upset, my grandmother's village where everything was simpler.

My eyes did not see the gates to the Bifrost when I lifted them, they saw the rising spires of the All Father's Palace, and the Wing of Prince Loki's Hall.

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

"It contains a message, I am told." When I unwrapped it I found a ring in my hand, golden and with tiny tiles that were painted with flowers. I said it was lovely and started to wrap it back in the silk it came in before Randulfr's hands stopped mine, a gentle and apologetic smile on his lips before he told me the ring was not so simple.

Taking it lightly from my palm, his trimmed nails hook a small tap I thought nothing of and reveal a piece of paper underneath, and the ink of words. "I am told the clan it comes from the Franks, it means I love you in their language."

It is me who can not even hold his gaze, not that his hand under my chin gives me much choice. "I know we have been fight, and that is my fault." They hold it now. "I am a not a man who enjoys sharing. But I am also not a man who enjoys surrender, but I can Arnora. I have been selfish, and it is been pushing you away, but I still want to be your husband."

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

I woke to Wagner's Parsifal, the remembrance of bullets in my body making the music much more ominous than the first time I heard it.

I woke to a bed of blankets and a dress of silk instead of straw and wet concrete wearing rags. I woke at the smell of freshly cooked food instead of the dying struggle of rats. I woke to the warmth of a fire and the sight of a monster standing there looking at me.

He was offering mercy. He put his hand on my wrist, caressing that tattoo. He believed I was informed enough to know to make the 'right choice'. He put his hand on my head, feeling the stubble that was my hair and the burned marks from the electro shock. I would not have to suffer anymore, the pain, the hunger, the misery the fear, it would all stop. He held my shoulder, his thumb tracing my collarbone as he ignored the way I shook and looked away.

He would even let me keep the American I was so attached to. All I had to do was let him rape me, though he worded it differently, to let him pollute me with his offspring again and again, and surrender them to science.

He wanted to start now. He tore my dress before I burned his blood. He touched me too much. I may not have been able to hurt him before because I was trying to hurt a human, but I know enough of him now and I promised agony if he put his skin on me again!

It was not his skin that touched me when he broke my jaw, or the next seventeen bones.

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

It was the needle that woke me. I fainted at some point, my wrists and arms felt like fire from where they hung me from the ceiling, but now then just feel cold. The needle that stabbed me in the throat slowly being pulled out and my chin released, allowed to fall back against my chest and the exhausting effort of breathing.

I can hear people in the room, prisoners, by their angry and horrified whispers. They are talking about me, they always talk about me. The naked bloody woman they thought was dead. One of them is not as weak as they thought. The sight of me makes him fight the guards, and it made me make a terrible mistake.

I lifted my eyes and I saw his. They were like blue jewels, like Skári's. His name was Barnes, and I choose someone for the first time, someone other then him.

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

"And where would you like to go today healer?" I have always been nervous around the Gatekeeper, not from anything Lord Heimdall has done, but simply because of his presence. As a wielder of magick I can feel the aura of it in others and there is so much of it in him that it itchs against my skin.

"Can you not see it?" Even with a soft smile he remains as stoic as ever. "I can only see it when the decision is made." _That is a pity, because I wish I knew where I wanted to go._

"May I stay here for a while Gatekeeper?" Randulfr, Loki, the College, Vanaheim, from here in the observatory I could go anywhere, and none of it sounds like what I want. "You may stay as long as you wish Lady Arnora." I imagined his permission would be the end of it, and he would return to watching an empty bridge for few used the bifrost at night, but instead I saw the stars move and found him him removing his sword.

He closed the bifrost for me! "You are a servant of the realm my Lady, most choices are made for us, but the dawn will bring one of yours, make sure you choose well." I never felt nervous around Heimdall again.

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

"Are you awake?" He is right up against the limits of the cage, his hand stretched through to my side and his eyes searching the shadowed wall that the moonlight casts, the shadow I am hiding in. "I know you're awake, I can hear your breathing. Can you speak English?" He asks, hopefully, the follows it with a less hopeful "Can you speak?"

I know his name, I know where he is from, I know he has a sister, and he knows nothing about me. They threw me back in this cage next to him, my body and my mind numb from electricity, and he managed to pull me closer to the bars, asking me questions to try and bring me back and telling me about himself; those eyes of his looking down on me before they took him away.

When they put him near me again I had my mind, and a rat giving up the last of its life to me.

There is a rat now too. But it's wrapped in duct tape and chittering its rage as he holds it out to me. "I've seen you use these, I don't get how but you wake up surrounded by a dead pile of these and you're better, so come on doll take the damn rat, don't make these scratches for nothing."

I took took the rat, the creature dying with a panicked squeak, and then he passed me three more.

"What's your name?" He always asked and I never said it, not before. "Arnora? That's different, that Italian? My name's James, you can call me Bucky though." I never called him that.

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

Goddesses are supposed to be immortal, and unkillable, they forgot though that anything that bleeds can also die, and they always made me bleed.

It did not take them long to realize I had limits. It also did not take them long to find a loophole. The energy that supports life can support any life, and they had lives to spare.

They 'fed' me people! Chained up, frightened men, women and even children. People they thought were beneath them. Gypsies, homosexuals, Slavs, Russians, Czechs, captured soldiers, and Jews. They fed me too many today. I can not control it when I am unconscious and I woke up, with one still alive.

An old man thin from hunger and sickness, with a wild head of grey hair and an untrimmed beard. I knew their language by now, and I knew his words as he took my hand, apologizing because he was making me cry and begging me to kill him and let him be with his God, instead of me sending him back to them!

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1515 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

ARNORA / ÍVIÐIA/ SUBJECT: 103671 / NORA

* * *

Loki, I am sorry, I was wrong, it was not your fault. Please don't leave me like this. I don't want this to be how it ends.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> Since at this point everyone should be familiar with the fact that Arnora lived among the Vikings, and was a prisoner of HYDRA for a while, this shouldn't be spoilers.
> 
> Paragraphs labeled ARNORA = her time in Asgard.  
> Paragraphs labeled ÍVIÐIA = her time in Viking age Norway.  
> Paragraphs labeled SUBJECT: 103671 = her time in HYDRA/WWII
> 
> Also there will be pictures for this chapter, but I have a lot of things I need to do today, and there are a lot of pictures, but I haven't pulled them from there various folders yet, and haven't organized them either to line up with the chapter, so those will go up tomorrow.


	86. Chapter 86

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER EIGHTY SIX

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1537 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

The name of this ritual has been lost to history, or at the very least lost from the pages of the book I discovered it in. The details of its creation are as varied as the gossip of a drunken hall. That division evaporated though when its use became corrupted, as all well meaning things inevitably do. It turned from whatever its original intent was to an act of possession. To an all consuming form of slavery.

It allows you to link your life, your energy, your magick, your soul to another of your choosing, or theirs to your own. That is how it became widely used. To tether prisoners to their captors.

Used in that manner, the link is generally only formed one way. It is more beneficial to the caster like that. It functions by creating an anchor on the recipient, one that links half of their energy to their captor, and tricks their body into thinking that both of them are one in the same. It forces the victims loyalty, because if the one who bound you in the first place dies, the shock of half your life force suddenly being torn away will kill you too. Though a few are lucky enough to only end up in a vegetative state, if you can count such a life as luck.

It is even more beneficial if magick is involved. It allows the one who forged the link to use that energy. Of course they have to know how, but if they do they can pull on it in place of their own reserves, and even gain access to a different kind of energy.

I am a master of the Seidr arts, something that is learned. She is a natural born Galdr practitioner, and Galdr in inherent, it can be understood, and extended into object. It can even be mimicked by Seidr, though the imitation will never be as effective. But if you do not have it you can not learn it. _Unless you trick a soul into thinking yours is part of it._

It is not without its consequences though. You are tearing out half of someone's life force and tethering it to your own after all. It is why I made sure she was as unconscious as we could manage, combining magick and Midgardian drugs. The ritual is dangerous enough without the victim resisting it.

The book warned that precautions should be taken because the ritual caused 'intense discomfort and pain' a more inadequate description I have never heard. It caused tremendous pain. But that pain was unique. While in truth the only physical harm that occurred was in the forming of the marks, it was not the only harm our body recognized. I could 'feel' her energy being forced into mine, and my mind did not know how to process that other then telling itself that what it felt was physical. Every nerve in my body was convinced it was burning.

If I had not fallen through a broken wormhole I might have been overwhelmed by that 'pain'. She was not as prepared.

I am sweating, the sensation particularly unpleasant since it is happening involuntarily. Frost giants are capable of perspiration, it is how they create their ice weaponry, secreting the moisture in a controlled fashion from their skin. It is a conscious effort, not a continuous one. Evolving on such a planet, if they constantly released moisture in an uncontrolled way, their race would have died out long ago, dying from dehydration as the air drew the moisture right out of their skin.

I am sweating because of her. The stress of the ritual has left her in a terrible state. Both IV's of the healing stones have been given to her at this point, the combined contents little more than a third of one bag. Terrance also gave her more IV's, filled with morphine, antibiotics, a mixture of several vitamins and nutrients to help boost her immune system, and anti-inflammatory drugs. A fever has settled into her flesh, even as she shivers violently and goosebumps cover every available inch of her skin, neither a reaction to the cold compressed I continue to place on her forehead.

The additions of mortal medicine that concern me most are the respirator that she is attached to, her breath fogging the clear mask resting over her nose and mouth. She began to show respiratory distress, so she is now breathing in a mist of something called Albuterol. My second concern, and greater concern is the defibrillator that has been waiting at the ready ever since she experienced her first heart arrhythmia during the ritual.

It took most of half an hour to carve the anchor point into her skin, my skill with the blade making the process quicker than it otherwise would have been, even with the tip encountering resistance at the opposing layer of her muscle fibers. It worked though, I can feel it in the hot tug of an invisible chain pulling at my chest.

I knew what my anchor would be, the one I cut into her skin. A symbol meant to represent me in its entirety. Nearly all magick users know theirs, with the exception of novices. Whether they are Galdr or Seidr users it does not matter, when they are learning how to connect with the energy the easiest way is meditation and intense visualization exercises. In those they discover a representation of their own life energy. I remember finding the intertwined serpents a very perplexing symbol for my soul at that age, but I have learned the appropriateness of it with age.

I did not know what her's would be, and I am equally as disgusted as I am amused by it. Even here, alone in a room with a woman who Asgard abandoned as much as she abandoned it, I find a representation of it, and one of the parts I hate most of all. Her symbol as an eagle with its wings outstretched. Thor's helmet, that in his arrogance he only wears in ceremony, bears the wings of an eagle as well.

I cannot cover it yet, not until the spell finishes settling into our skin, but once I secure it I am hiding this damnable bird with an illusion. Until then I can not leave her side. While the anchors are still raw any distances between us will only cause both of us pain. Even sitting right here next to her the tension already borders on discomfort. Now it is just a matter of patience, though I am pleased to wait. I can already see it progressing. The outer edges, working their way toward the center of the symbol, have turned from lines of broken skin and blood to the black lines of a tattoo.

When that finishes so will the ritual, the confirmation of it being the animation of the 'creatures'. While they are not actually animals the designs are magickal creations representing two life forces, they will mimic sentience and the mannerisms of the creatures they depict.

The doctor, the medical one and not the scientist, wanted to cover the marks with sterile pads as soon as they were cleaned of blood. I made it very clear they would not be, not on her or myself. His concerns about infection were unwarranted, because if anything put our health in danger it was not going to be bacteria. I also refused because if they were covered I would not be able to monitor their progress.

That is why I am still lightly wiping away the beading edges of blood off her sternum. The body of her dress has been stained by the blood she shed. I could have purged the fibers of that dye, but opted not to. It was a wasteful use of my magick when I needed to conserve my strength.

For a ritual with such a simple application, it certainly is an exhausting one; I knew that in theory, since all blood magick is said to be so. But that form of magick is so archaic it is only ever used in the old stories. It explains why they apparently did it in the presence of so many healers, because those healers would have also been loyal subjects, prepared to protect their masters in their weakened state afterwards.

"Sir?" _And all I have is an idiot and a mortal._

My exhaustion and pain also made me short tempered and I turned my attention to him with a snarl before I found it in me to remember he was in charge of monitoring her health. When I no longer need him I think I am going to take great pleasure in his death. "I trust your presence has a purpose?"

"Yes sir, apologies, but I need to replace some of the IV bags."


	87. Chapter 87

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER EIGHTY SEVEN

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1601 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

It took another 24 minutes before I felt the 'bird' on my chest start to stir, as I watched it preen its feathers. What should have been allowed several days to heal, I hastened. The healing stones still dripping through the IV into her bloodstream helped, but I also added the addition of Idunns apples. She may not have had the consciousness to eat them safely, but there were ways around that.

They inserted a feeding tube through her nose, a method I found disturbing but somewhat logical as she would not be able to puncture the tube with her teeth that way, and then it was a simple matter of turning the apples into a thin sauce and injecting it a syringe at a time into the feeding tube. A task I left to the doctor.

With the combined strength of Asgard's greatest medical accomplishments and a bit of Midgardian medicine we finished the ritual in a fraction of its recommended time. Now there is just one final test, which is more to ease the doubt in my mind than anything necessary.

Now that we are both beyond confident in her well being I let the doctor finish removing all the IV's in her skin, as well as the feeding tube, and release her from those restraints. She would still be unconscious until the drugs wore off, and there was no longer any danger in her being able to move.

Once that was done and I felt the excess that linged from the stones fade I took her hand in mine, turning it over so her palm was exposed to my sight. For a moment I found myself frowning at my reintroduction to those silver scars there. I had honestly forgotten about them in the face of my own priorities. Her magick wasn't strong enough to heal them then since it was still reemerging.

It makes quick work of the slash that forms in the fat of her palm now though. It makes quick work of a wound that's origin was carved into my palm. Her body's innate ability to heal itself is no longer able to recognize any difference between the two of us. It heals my injuries as if they were her own, it worked. I had all of her now. She was mine, I would never lose her again.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1602 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

TERRANCE 

* * *

There is something almost predatory in the grin that takes over his features, and the delighted chuckle that he lets out. I find a bit of relief that I don't seem to qualify as the 'prey' anymore.

He seemed quite annoyed by my presence earlier, even as I tried my best to perform my tasks as quietly as possible, making sure the medicine in the lines continued to flow without obstruction, and the bags were replaced quickly when they were drained.

Now though he looks quite pleased as he arranges her hair neatly back in place, and presses a kiss to her cheek, whispering what sounds like endearments in promises before he turns his attention back to me.

"I need to meet with Agent Barton for a moment before we leave." While we have been busy performing what I've concluded to be a very interesting form of surgery, Agent Barton has been prepping a team and packing the supplies into the trucks, however Loki will still need to 'cast an illusion' over the vehicles to make they're invisible to the satellites. That much is expected.

"While I am gone I want you to collect what women we have on staff. She is filthy, I want her cleaned up before you take her." That I expected too. The white dress she is in looks like it is a prop from Carrie movie, and she looks like the character herself, with the exception that her head isn't also covered in blood. I know enough of this man's character to know he wouldn't let her be presented to anyone like that. He will want her bathed, and dressed, and groomed to perfection before he lets the world lay eyes on her again.

"I'll choose her guards and have them ready for you." I wasn't expecting that. I knew Loki intended our group to divide, he and Barton taking most of the soldiers with them to Stuttgart while the remaining portion, and the scientists among us headed elsewhere. Dr. Selvig and his scientists, as well as the hackers to break into STARK tower, and my team, who were heading to a safe location, that would be far away from the fighting.

"Sir, I can protect her." He has been using me exclusively for my medical expertise ever since he brainwashed me with whatever technology is in that staff of his, but that was my primary skill set, not my only one. I was also a highly trained field operative, and I simply assumed he overlooked that. Until he offered me more of a sneer then a grin. "The guards are to protect her from you. Your interest has not gone unnoticed, but rest assured it will go unfulfilled."

"I am letting you take her simply to tend to her wounds if they appear, but if you touch her in any other way, we'll have them quarter you. Are we clear?" Part of me wants to offer up reassurances to that, to try and counter what is an accurate observation. I thought I was being subtle, but perhaps I'm more disconnected from my body then I thought, and those expressions showed. My self preservation instinct still seems to be strong, it silences me in the face of his threat. "yes sir."

After he left and I remembered my body needs to breath, I ran over the list of names I knew in my head. Since our original mission was working for an illegal army's dealer that contracted out to mercenaries, not all of the people that came with us to work for Loki were part of strike, but after a moment I recall the names of at least two women, and get them on the radio.

While I'm sure they thought their tasks were important, and they perhaps were not even very eager to drop them to take orders from someone else's group, but they also recognized we were all working for the same one now, and all it took was Loki's name to get them to help me carry her into the bathroom of the hospital wing and start washing the blood soaked woman.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012 

1604 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671 

* * *

It was the gas again, it must have been since my chest hurt so much, and it felt so hard to move. I can't remember what I did this time to make them think they needed to use the nerve gas again. Did I kill another guard? Did I almost break free again? Those were the usual reasons why they threw me in that glass box and filled my lungs with nerve gas, letting me choke on it for a few minutes before pulling me out and injecting me with the antidote to keep me from actually dying.

They were dragging me out now, I could feel their hands on my skin. I could feel their skin on my skin. _I could feel their skin on my skin?! Why would they let me feel their skin? Are these not HYDRA? Are these prisoners?_ I stopped caring when I felt water. _They were going to drown me!_

* * *

ÍVIÐIA 

* * *

I was in a some sort of basin that felt like smooth stone, and there was a person putting me inside. My fingers knotted in their hair before they even realized I was awake. _Basins have sides._ Their skull made a resonating sound before their body recoiled from that force and slide unconsciously to the floor, their hands trailing directionless over my naked and bloody skin.

I don't know who they are but they made a mistake attacking me like this.

While one was busy regaining their senses and motor skills the other took their turn, and the contact made me realize I was fighting not men but women under these clothes. This one managed to grapple me, getting one arm around my neck and the other around my shoulder as she hauled me out of the tube, my back held against her chest and her height making me unable to get my feet back on the ground before the other shakily stood back up, fury and her blood face and an object in her hand.

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671 

* * *

_Gun! Gun! GUN!_

Reaching down, my fingernails dig into their thigh, the small crescent cuts letting my magick sink inside as their leg crumbles, paralysis and pain taking over the limb making them fall and cry as their head bounces of the side on the way down, a fraction of a second before the tiles explode with dust clouds and the man in the room starts screaming not to shoot.

* * *

ÍVIÐIA 

* * *

The fall didn't loose their hold enough and they tighten it again, this time twisting their legs around mine as I struggle to break free and get off the floor. They made another mistake. They left my other hand alone. The angle is awkward but my fingers feel their way to the soft flesh of their jaw, and my magick starts to rot it, exposing the blood in their jugular to the world like a fountain. I am no longer the thing they are desperately trying to hang on to.

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671 

* * *

This time it's the floor that erupts in a small crater of dust. The bullet missing again but because the man is wrestling with the woman. For whatever reason he doesn't want to hurt me. They must want me whole for the next experiment! _They will not get that!_ The sound of the gun is muffled this time, but clear all the same as the scientist's lab coat blooms in red and he falls away with a small scream.

* * *

ÍVIÐIA 

* * *

It's already too late though. Before the woman can lift what is clearly a weapon again I slip into her guard and trap her upper arm beneath my armpit, and bring my free hand up to her throat. She is paralyzed before she can even consider her next move. Now it's his turn.

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671 

* * *

The gun fell out of the woman's hands the second she lost control of her muscles. It hit the floor just like she did, but it bounced a little more. The design of this gun looks different than the one _he_ shot me with, but if I counted right and the clip was full, there should still be at least four bullets in the gun, maybe more. _We will find out._

I don't know where this place is, or why they left me alone with three people who weren't wearing the right kind of material to protect themselves from me, and I don't care. I don't even care about why they let me get a weapon.

This might be some manner of test, to see how much control of my mind or my powers I still have. Perhaps these people disappointed _him_ , and _he_ decided to make me their executioner. I hate that when it is their prisoners. Innocent people who have commited no crime but living, but if _he_ wants me to kill _this scientist, this thing in lab coat_ I will do it happily.

I give him a bullet in his hip for trying to stand up. I can hear the bone shatter beyond his yell, the tone changing from when it ripped through his flesh, to when those broken fragments hit the concrete and cracked more is he fell.

"Please...." He speaks English, not like the other scientists. He speaks the same language James did before they took him from me. "...You don't have to do this, I'm not you...." He doesn't finish. I put a hole in his outstretched hand and his shoulder too for that offense.

When he keeps speaking I put what I thought would be the last two bullets into his stomach, but when the chamber echoes three times my curiosity overcomes me. Somehow I know that I have to turn the safety on to eject the magazine. This knowledge feels unfamiliar because I can't recall where I learned it, but it feels right and proves true when the clip slides out and reveals I still have 11 more bullets. _This gun is amazing. James would have loved a pistol like this._

I put a round in the woman's head, the one whose neck I melted, because I am tired of the sound of her gagging. It isn't because I'm merciful. These people are monsters, and they deserve to die like it. But the sound reminds me too much of how often the things they did to me had me make the same sound, and I don't want to remember that right now!

Kneeling down I put my hand on the man's throat next, I take away the man's ability to speak too. Let him choke on the absence of his own voice. It's a terrifying thing, I know. Then I show him why it's frightening when I stick my fingers in his skin and pull out a bullet that didn't go all the way through.

I thought the bullets were almost gone, and I planned to kill him with the last two, but since I have so many more left I don't think I will let him die that easily, and I heal what I did to his stomach is I pull my fingers out.

When he tries to hang onto my hand though I cripple that arm for his effort.

I don't remember where all this strength was coming from. I remember being weak and helpless, but everything is so jumbled in my head right now, even my dreams. Something called SHIELD. A brother named Clint, a sister named Natasha. So many pretty things. Friends. A kitten. I had a damn kitten in that dream!

I met Steve in that dream. That's how I know it's a dream. James told me about Steve. Small, skinny, sickly Steve Rogers. But in my dream I made him healthy. He was the epitome of human capacity. He was a construct of wishful thinking. It all was. I forgot every horrible thing in that dream, and even if 'Nora' felt sad because she couldn't remember, 'Nora' got to be happy, innocent and unharmed, and that was the best I could hope for.

But this man woke me up from that dream, and every second until someone comes and stops me he is going to pay for that mistake, and since they put me in a bathroom we are going to to start with the tub, and when I can't heal him anymore, I'm going to do the same to that woman next. These people are monsters, and I will prove to every single member of HYDRA that comes through that door that I am a monster too!


	88. Chapter 88

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER EIGHTY EIGHT

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1608 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

I felt it, I felt her, I felt panic and rage. The bond was only completed enough to let me pull from her, it was not supposed to let her have any control of the link, however the fact that there is a link at all does allow for some things to pass both ways. One of those things is enormous emotional intensity.

They surprised me enough that i quickly cut my arrangements with agent barton and the doctor short, turning and all but racing back to that room, unconcerned that they followed in my wake.

Her emotions didn't tell me what had happened, or why her emotions spiked so intensely, but they didn't have to. Their presence was explaination enough. She woke up, and remembering the state I left her in explained her emotions well enough.

I was prepared to find her in conflict with the humans I left her in their care, it only made sense if she woke up in such a state, reason would be the last thing on her mind.

I didn't expect to find a woman lying in a teardrop puddle of blood, on end pointed in spatters from where it sprayed from her throat. I didn't expect to find the other woman still alive but paralyzed, physically, and perhaps mentally given her unblinking terror. In the middle of it all was a sight I expected even less. Arnora naked except for blood, and bending the doctor's spine backwards as she she held his head beneath the waterline of the bath tub with a snarl.

"Arnora?!"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1609 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

SUBJECT: 103671

* * *

I snapped to attention at the sound of another voice, another male. I was ready to kill this one too, until my eyes took in the sight. I barely even heard the scientist's body fall, with my hands no longer forming a ring around his throat too small for his jaw bone to pass through, his paralyzed body was finally able to submit to gravity again, the mass of him outside the basin being greater than the mass within, and dragging him free of the pool. He was able to cough and gasp like a fish, so he wasn't dead yet, but I didn't care because there was someone else here now, someone else I gave up hope of ever seeing again while I lived.

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I hated him once, I loathed him so much, I only hated one person more in my life. His father, my 'king', Odin. I choose the Bifrost over spending one more day in slavery masked as servitude to that bastard on that throne, and I left his raven haired son with the memory of my curses in his ears.

My baby was dead because of Loki, because of that thing I knew he made deals with. I didn't know the details, but when I felt the same echo of the energy that tried to choke me to death lingering on my daughter's throat I knew Loki was to blame. Odin took more of the guilt for Kenna's death when he declared me mad. There was no such creature in Asgard, and no curse had been laid on my infant he said. My daughter's death was just an unfortunate accident, and I was just insane with grief and looking for something to blame. HE KNEW WHAT KILLED MY BABY AND HE WAS PROTECTING IT TO PROTECT HIMSELF! ODIN LET MY BABY DIE TO PROTECT HIS REPUTATION!

That rage carried me for years, but my hatred for Loki didn't last nearly as long. I couldn't forget Loki's confusion at the sight of me, desperate and uninvited in his halls with my daughter tied to my chest. The look of horror and guilt when he realized what had happened too late, and the Einharjar dragged me screaming away from him, and the body of my baby in his hands. His order for them to let me go, cancelled by the order of Odin's to imprison me for my attempt at 'necromancy'.

Necromancy was Odin's lie, because Kenna wasn't dead yet, I could still feel a spark of her struggling underneath that curse, I still felt it before they tore her away from me, and her last chance at life. He called that an illusion of my desperate mind, as if a healer, as if the healer who inherited Eir's magick, and would one day her position as the Royal healer couldn't tell the difference between life and death!

Loki begged his father to forgive me, he convinced his mother to beg for me as well. I was a 16 year old mother who just lost her first child. I was too young for him to expect me to be able to handle such grief rationally, I was desperate and heartbroken, but that did not make me a traitor. I would be valuable to the kingdom someday, he should not throw me away for a mistake made in my youth.

Loki begged me. He came down to the cells himself, he came in my cell and he begged me. "Take Odin's mercy, please Arnora. I am so sorry, I did not know it would go after your child. I will make it pay. You will have other children, you will hold another baby in your arms, I promise you it will happen someday. Please, you do not belong in this dungeon, you belong in Asgard, please let me bring you back where you belong? I need you."

I broke his heart as truly as I broke his skin that day, as truly as he broke my heart. It took me less than a decade walking to cold lands of Norway to lose the fight with my hate for Loki. _Loki, I am sorry, I was wrong, it was not your fault._ Loki didn't kill my daughter, he had nothing to do with her death except of an unfortunate association. What that creature was, and whatever Loki was doing with it, it was not a friendly collaboration, part of me knew that when I felt it try to kill me. Loki acted disinterested about my welfare in its presence, only letting his desperation break through after it left our presence, his hands bleeding as he used them to break the crushing enchantment it left on my neck.

That thing killed my baby to punish Loki, not me. It stole something that mattered to me more then life, because it realized I matter to Loki. It must have figured out that part when it noticed I didn't die from that encounter. Making another attempt on my life would only make Loki its enemy, and all of Asgard in turn no doubt. So for whatever reason, it chose to make its point by hurting me to hurt him instead. That wasn't Loki's fault.

_You'll hold another baby in your arms._ Loki made me that promise, as he begged me not to choose banishment, and in a way that had nothing to do with him, that promise came true. Loki said that with children of my own blood in mind, not a blonde mortal boy from another woman's womb.

Skari, that little boy healed my heart. The scars from Kenna remained, and I knew they always would, but every time that child laughed or smiled, or called me Modir they faded a little more. Until they opened again, not as cuts but chasms. The plague took that child away from me, and it took my will to live with it.

There was no funeral for Skari, his body turned to dust in my hands as my heartbreak triggered my magick, the very land around me forced to surrender its energy to try heal a wound that could never be closed. There was no funeral for Kenna either, I wasn't even allowed to see my daughter's lights lifted to Valhalla. And there would be no funeral for me either. I walked away in that night, and sealed myself in ice because I wanted to die to stop the pain.

When I woke up I learned very quickly that I knew nothing of pain, and what it really felt like to want to die. _Loki Please don't leave me like this. I don't want this to be how it ends._

I begged. I screamed. Every time the humans carved a piece out of me, every time I felt my magick struggle to heal me from the monstrous things they did in the name of their science. Every time I woke up healed, and surrounded by a pile of dead people, my unconscious body ripping the life out of them in an attempt to prolong its own. I even screamed Odin's name. I begged for Odin's forgiveness, I begged him to take me back and let me serve him again, I would forget all of it, if he just saved me. He couldn't leave me here to die like this. I begged and no one listened.

No one cared, no one listened, no one remembered to look anymore. I was going to die inch by inch, and I would never see anyone again. Not Asgard, not my sisters in the healing halls. Not my family, and not Loki, who I forgave, and finally admitted to myself I loved only after I lost the chance.

Loki who is here now. Loki who looked 18 the last time I saw him, but now looks 30. Loki who I would go anywhere, even in what must be madness.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1609 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

I've seen that expression, the one she whipped around and gave me at the sound of my voice. I've seen it, in the eyes of wild wolves, animals who know they are going to be hurt or killed, but have every intention of ripping their attackers throats out as they die. Her eyes were feral, every inch of her was, from the slight crouch, to the way her face twitched from the tension of the snarl that exposed her teeth, even the way her fingers were white at the knuckles as she curled them in fists.

She was feral, and then she was not. The savageness evaporating out her eyes just like the blood on her skin, the energy in the blood finally absorbed by her skin, and her movement shedding the rust colored remnants like a dust.

She all but ran up and hugged me, the force of it making me falter back a step as her arms wrapped themselves around my neck despite my height, and if it wasn't for the way she shaking, or the tears I heard in her laughter as she buried her face against my shoulder I might have misinterpreted it is an attack. Perhaps I should have.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1609 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I didn't expect it to feel good, but I didn't expect it to hurt as much as it did when I reared my head back and headbutted the bastard.

I thought 'Nora' was a dream, a beautiful dream that my unconscious mind made up. I got to forget all the horrible things that happened to me. The loss of my child, of two children, the loss of my home and family, the slow and terrible way I lost my magick. I got a brother in its place, a sister, a best friend. I got happy memories, and innocence, and the ability to make choices with my life, something I never had on Asgard.

I thought all of it was a dream, even the part with Loki. Loki who was my husband in this dream, Loki who was the father of my child in this dream, Loki who I secretly wished for to be true in this dream, Loki who was older than the 18 year older version of him I saw last.

That's what made the doubt start to sink into my theory. The Loki who stands in front of me right now, the Loki that I was able to touch, looked just like the version I thought I dreamt. They matched perfectly, too perfectly. If I really imagined it all then the 'Loki' in my dream should have been a vague adult version of the teenager I remembered.

But he wasn't, because it was real, and if he was real, the sight of my brother was real. I saw outside the door to this room before it closed behind Loki, I saw his eyes glowing. They weren't the only ones. I saw my friend, a Norwegian doctor who knew all those old silly stories, Erik Selvig, he was here too, in this place where I was awake with Clint Barton. He was real, they were real. _They were outside of my head, and they were real!_

Nora was real, even if she was just the absence of me, she was real. And Loki had her kidnapped, he used my amnesia against me, he manipulated me, and let me suffer, physically and mentally to get what he wanted. He lied to me, twisting vague memory to suit his needs. He said I was his lover, and the mother of his child! My daughter died because I knew Loki, and he claimed her ghost because it benefited him!

I wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp, but I knew Loki was stronger than me. He was before, even if he was considered the weaker prince he was still trained to fight, and even if I learned in my time living with the vikings I knew he would still be stronger than me, it's not likely he would have stopped learning while I was gone. That's why I hugged him first, I let myself touch him to prove he wasn't a dream, and get inside his guard.

I didn't expect to feel the bridge of my own nose crack from a blow that didn't touch it. When I headbutted Loki in that exact spot.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1610 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

_I should have sensed that coming sooner._ The blow was strong enough that it did have me stagger back a few paces, the location of the blow making my vision dance with spots before I manage to steady myself, and wipe the blood away with the back of my hand. "Well that could not have felt pleasant."

My comment is less than appreciated, it's met with a silent snarl as she rests her weight against the side of the tub. All things considered, while we most likely felt the blow equally, because she wasn't expecting to feel the additional trauma of what she did to my nose, it affected her more. "What have you done?!"

The fact that she hasn't figured it out does not surprise me. After I left her in the care of the humans, now certain that the bond was sealed, I acted on my desire to hide that foul bird on my chest from sight, and with my lovely vantage of her naked I can clearly see the absence of her mark as well. It seems my effort to hide one has hidden both from view. For the sake of explanation though I suppose I can stand the sight of that bird.

I can see her focus drift in a moment of surprise, and I know exactly what has her bordering on frightened confusion. I can feel it tug on the bond, her body trying to pull the magick to heal that injury and finding it less then it should be. "Shh." It lets me close the gap quick enough to catch her in my hands.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1611 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

His fingers secure my wrist easily, and I might have fought them more with the other hand if it wasn't for the feel of his right thumb tracing the bridge of my nose and relief filling the space pain once occupied. I can feel my magick strengthening the seam between the cartilage and bone that my blow created, and the blood ceasing to flow out of my nostril. _My magick, from him?_

"It's alright." That's his answer to the 'how?' written all over my face as I lift it to look at him, that's an answer that doesn't contain an answer. "Loki, what have you done to me?"

The feel of his fingers finding the hollow of my back happens with too much familiarity as I back up a step, unnerved by the sight of his armor shimmer away and expose his chest. That concern turns to curiosity when a different kind of familiarity reveals something unfamiliar on his sternum.

After his tunic fades out of sight something else fades into view. The tingle of magick on my chest that happens at the same time pulls my eyes to my own chest for a moment. My chest hurt when I awoke, but I saw nothing, and I saw enemies so I forgot my discomfort and I fought.

Now in my stillness the discomfort has returned to my mind, and it has a sight now. A twin pair of ouroboros serpents, twisted into a figure eight as they bite their own tails, and blink at me as they test the air with their tongues. This 'tattoo' is alive, and I know the energy that animates it. This mark is not alone.

I saw it emerge on his skin as well before I was distracted by mine. Its design is much more stylized than the serpents on my skin, but it's a style I know. Its an antique art from from the Vanir tribe my family hails from. It's a bird, a raptor of some kind, and as my fingers near it, it reveals itself as mine. That's not ink in Loki's skin, that my energy trapped there!

"Its blood magick, old magick." He says softly as his hand cups my cheek and his thumb traces my jaw, as he tries and fails to caress the horror out of my eyes. "But don't worry, I will take care of you. I won't lose you again."

_Take care of me?!_ Doesn't he understand what he has done? He tore a part of my soul out of me, literally, he tied it to him against my will. He didn't even ask for my consent. "Loki... you made me a slave."

"No." He actually tries to argue it, the hand around my waist keeping me from backing away as I wish to, disgust and betrayal filling my veins as he lets his fingers trail from my jaw to the mark, his mar, that he forced on my skin, with reverence in his eyes. "No, not a slave, just mine again. Where you belong. Where I can keep you safe, where we can all be together again."

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1612 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

This time I felt the shift. Her rage reaching me through the bond half a second before it reached her eyes and found an outlet in the swinging of her hand. A hand that I easily imprison in mine.

"Where we can all be together again!" A hand whose partner I easily catch with my own before she gives me an explanation as to her anger.

"We! We! My daughter died because of that thing! Because of YOU! How dare you claim her, claim me! How dare you use the love of my daughter against me like that!" This is no longer Nora, the woman who believed herself a human once, and whose broken memories made her easily exploitable. This is Arnora, truly and whole. _How very unfortunate for her._

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1613 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

When I can't rip my hands past the grip his own have on my wrists I change my tactic. I try to head butt him again, but it fails. He releases one of my hands to grab my throat instead, stopping the momentum of my skull and doing exactly what I hoped he would do. Before he can even correct his mistake I slam that hand into 'my' mark on his chest and push.

The force of my magick attacking him, even weakened as it is by what he has done to me, sends us both reeling. It feels like what I imagine getting struck by a troll would feel like, and sends me crumbling to my knees with the breath knocked out of me for a moment. I'm okay with that though because it does the same to Loki, and as long as he is down all I have to do is get up first.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1613 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

I forgot how clever she can be, and how accurate her intuition was when she was truly herself. But so has she. Much has changed since the last time she saw me. She gets her feet under her before I do, because she managed to kick my arm out from under me again as I tried to catch her ankle.

That gave her the precious seconds she needed to start running for the door. And right into the arms I had waiting for her.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1614 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

I felt it too late to react, a prickle against my skin, like a cool breeze on the hairs there right before I felt the solidness of skin and muscle crushing skin and muscle. The illusion that hid him shimmering at the edges as the invisibility fades and reveals his hiding place beneath it, and the doppelganger on the floor vanishes.

This time he doesn't seem inclined to give me anymore chances. Not only is one of my arms trapt securely at my side under his, but the other is held down by the hand of that arm as it wraps around my back. His opposite hand weaves itself almost painfully in my hair to hold my head still. I take momentary delight in the idea that it might be just as uncomfortable to him as it is me, before I feel a sensation I never even fathomed.

Its a pull, and that's the only way I can think to describe it as I'm a bit preoccupied with screaming in pain. It feels like everything in my chest, my lungs, my heart, my ribcage, my muscles were all being pulled out of me, before they were allowed to snap right back in place.

And through it all Loki stood calm and comfortable as he held me.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1615 HOURS

OHIO STATE REFORMATORY

MANSFIELD OHIO, USA

* * *

LOKI

* * *

I released the tension when I felt her reach the border of unconsciousness, her body going limp in my arms as the pain stopped, and her chest heaving as she gasped for air. I didn't want to hurt her like that, but she left me with no choice. She figured out that she could effect the bond by affecting the mark, but she neglected to realize that as the creator of this link, I could effect her without affecting myself. It was not a guaranteed two way road.

Now that she no longer has the strength to fight me it makes her easier to contain. She barely has strength to keep her eyes open, or speak my name in a steady way. "L-lo-ki pl-e..."

"Shh..." The sound is breathed into her hair as I cradle the back of her neck, letting me tip her head back and press a kiss to her forehead without letting it fall. "...Do not be afraid Arnora. I am so sorry it had to be like this, I will take care of you, you will see."

"I-I..." Despite that reassurance I can hear her continue to struggle for argumentative words as I carefully move her, resting her back against the tub they were supposed to bath her in, next to the human she all but destroyed. He carried the syringe of tranquilizer as a safety measure, though it proved useless as he never was able to use it, it serves my purposes now is the needle breaks her skin and a drop of saltwater decorates her skin.. _You should have just stayed asleep Arnora. It was better that way._ "...lo-lov-ved yo..."


	89. Chapter 89

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER EIGHTY NINE

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1658 HOURS

QUINJET CARGO BAY

INTERNATIONAL WATERS

* * *

STEVE

* * *

There was a sort of infuriating comfort in the fact that 'hurry up and wait' even in this modern age I found myself in, was still a common practice. At 1506 hours they sighted the terrorist, the location was almost insulting. I 'just' finished fighting in Germany, and now it looks like a new enemy has decided to start another war there.

At 1522 hours we were in the air, a quinjet, one of the same kind of aircraft I arrived on the carrier in, was already prepared, the preparations for takeoff finished before we even had a location so when S.H.I.E.L.D found him we wouldn't waste time waiting.

They said even at mach 5, 5976 km/h it would take us almost an hour and forty minutes to reach the city at 1659 hours, 2259 hours in German time.

I had an hour and 40 minutes to sit and wait, and think. And all I can think about is her.

* * *

SUNDAY, AUGUST 7TH 2011

210 STANHOPE ST 11237

BROOKLYN NEW YORK

* * *

STEVE

* * *

It took me a moment to realize what the sound I was hearing was, and by the time I did I almost didn't reach the phone in time.

S.H.I.E.L.D gave my the the phone out of necessity they said, as well as a laptop computer, so they could communicate with me if they needed to but so far it hasn't rang once. Why would it when S.H.I.E.L.D didn't have Captain America back on active duty yet, and there was no one alive from my past anymore who would know to call.

Then I had this strange rhythmic chirp echoing in a muffled way around my apparent. I thought at first that it might just be a sound filtering through the wall from one of my neighbors, until I realized the reason it was muffled was because it was coming through the closed door of my bedroom.

By the time I did grab the phone off its dock I seem to have caught it at just the right fraction of a second to confuse the answering machine. I could hear its automated message "Hello, you have reached 718-535-3414, we are unavailable to take your call at this time, please leave a message after the tone" Tucked awkwardly under my unnecessarily forceful "DON'T HANG UP, I'M HERE, IT'S LYING!"

I can tell it's a woman's voice on the other side of the line, and that she is confused but that is all I recognize at first because her voice was overlaid by the the very sharp beep that suddenly assaulted my eardrums from two different directions. Thankfully she has the foresight to keep talking. "...Steve, are you ok?"

"Nora? Yes, I'm fine, it's just..." I meant to say more but the sound of my own voice repeating to me a half second behind threw me off for a moment, one which she seems to misinterpret. "Is this a bad time?

"No!" The forcefulness finds its way back in without me intending to, and I can practically hear her eyebrows furrow in the silence before I let out a frustrated sigh. "I just did...something... to the phone." The phone seems to have opinions about the situation as well when another sharp beep burrows into my eardrum again, supposedly marking the end of the time for the message. "I hate this thing. Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm still here." While I find that reassurance a relief I find my attention pulled to the sound of her voice. It sounds muffled now, as if she moved away from the phone for a second, or something was put over it. There is also the muted humming sound of another human voice, but one that sounds distinctly male.

"Nora?" While I can't hear her end clearly she can still hear me fine apparently. Her words, while still muffled reply to mine with a quick "One second Steve" Before she continues talking distantly to whoever she is with, saying something that has the word "change" in it before she finally returns to me, her voice crystal clear again as she is the one who asks if I'm still on the phone this time.

"Y-yeah..." My response comes out with a little hesitation as I look at the buttons in front of me, trying to figure out if there is one I can push to make the speakers stop projecting my voice back at me for this whole conversation, since it is only my voice and not her's. "Sorry, this phone is just confusing me again, did you need something?"

"No, not really, I'm just taking care of my to do list and I didn't want to loose you while I paid the delivery. What's your phone doing?" My answer of 'its greatest impression of me' draws a laugh out of her for a moment before she assures me that it's not broken and the echo will fix itself once I hang up.

"So how have you been?" Her tone tells me what she is really asking, it loses some of its laughter, sombering out but not drifting into pity, just the inquiry of a friend. "I've been alright." When I say I've been alright I am also saying there haven't been any bads days.

I would never lie to her about those, I learned very quickly I didn't have to hide them from her. She didn't see them as just something pitiful about me like everyone else, she wasn't just sad for Captain America, she understood, because she lived through 'bad days' of her own once. It's not something we bring up up deliberately, neither of us having any desire to dwell on the misery, but its something we don't avoid either if it needs to be talked about. We deal with them as they happen, we help each other.

"Thank you." Then remembering her mention a delivery I turn the conversation a little. "but if you're busy I don't want to be an inconvenience. Should I call you back later, or come by?"

There is another pause that fills my speaker, but in this one I almost swear it sounds like she stifled a giggle. "Oh please, when have you ever been an 'inconvenience' Steve? Besides if you did those, then I wouldn't have a thing to do but sit outside your door and wait."

There was going to be a response to that, until my brain processed the words 'outside your door'. Instead once they do I just turn and leave the living room to head down the narrow entry hallway off the kitchen. Even before I put my hand around the doorknob I can hear proof on the other side. She is humming, and I can definitely hear the smirk on her lips in that sound, a smirk I see as the door opens and I offer her one of my own.

"Hello Steve." I of course am not rude enough to skip greeting her back as I open the door farther for her, even if her appearance in my hall is a bit of a surprise. "Hello Nora."

She is dressed in an unusual manner, which is also saying she is dressed normally. Nora's personal sense of style isn't really that strange, when you compare it to some of the things I have seen people wear on the streets of Manhattan, it's just different then I am used to. It does seem to suit her though.

She is wearing a white t-shirt with a multi colored crest on it, the creatures are some sort of dragon or lion, it's hard to tell the way they are shaped, but in the crest is a VΛ and below it the letters RVCA.

Around her neck she has a bulky silk scarf that is a lime green and deep pink color, with at least half a dozen alternating patterns all meshed together in it. Over that to offer her some sort of protection from touch, but still not make her too hot in the late summer heat as a knit mesh cardigan jacket, with large holes between the weave. I can also make out under her scarf quite the collection of chains and beads around her neck. The chains are various sizes and have some trinkets attached to them, one peaking from the side appears to be a bird. The beads are in various sizes too, and many shades of purple.

Her jeans are, as usual, full of holes and worn out spots, and today are folded up to just below her knees. Her legs aren't bare though, she has a pair of thin striped socks on to protect her skin. Her footwear today is a pair of leather sandals, which have the straps made of various colorful pieces of rope.

Also on her are yet another pair of her almost ever present gloves. In private or when in familiar company she has begun to be able to leave them off sometimes, but out in public she still needs them all the time. Then last, but not least is the accessory I find the most interesting and amusing. A very worn out fedora that looks like it might have been made with brown burlap.

"How did you get here?" This is why finding her outside the door surprised me. While S.H.I.E.L.D no longer restricts Nora to the ground of the base she is stationed at, and even gave her own off base housing she very rarely ventures out in public on her own, given her encounter with a mugger last December and the fact that NYC is far too crowded for a person with a touching phobia to ever be comfortable, no matter how much control over their phobia they have. "I thought you were paying for a delivery?"

"Oh, I'm the delivery. I took a cab." She says it so casually despite the fact that I don't miss the way she rids herself of her hat and handbag, but not her coat, giving away that it wasn't as calm a trip as she lets on. But since her hands are steady as she does that its also not something I bring up, we both know the best way for her to get over her aversion of crowds is to be around them in limited amounts.

"If I knew you were coming over I would have tidied up a bit more." I meant that sincerely, thinking about whether or not my bedroom door was still open, and if she could see my laundry basket from this angle. Her open laugh draws my attention from that concern. "Yes, because if you weren't expecting me I might find a pencil out of place."

I have to concede that one because she is right. Growing up during the depression we never had many things, and with my mother sick like she was I always made sure to keep our apartment tidy so it wasn't in the doctor's way. Then when she was too sick to take care of me and I had to live at the orphanage for a while, keeping our area anything less then clean was a punishable offense. That habit followed me into adulthood when I ended up in the army, and became a permanent part of my everyday life. One that seems especially important when it comes to having a woman in my apartment. _Speaking of..._ "So 'did' you need something?"

"No, not really." She says with a smile. "I just came to ask if you wanted to go out with me." This time my blush returns from its brief retreat, and about half a second later her eyes widen a little with realization at what she just said and a blush claims her cheeks too.

"Well, uh Nora..."

"I mean, that's not..."

"...You're a wonderful girl and everything..."

"...What I meant to say..."

"...I mean lady, not everything..."

"...It's just maybe, if you want to I mean..."

"...You're just you, which is wonderful and..."

"...Would you possibly like dinner?"

"…Dinner?!"

Both of us stop our frantic overlapping speech, her's driven by her need to correct the mistake in phrasing, and mine driven by my misconceptions.

That's one thing I have noticed with Nora, and to a degree I have gotten used to it, but occasionally it catches me off guard. She says it's because her first language was 'socially awkward' but sometimes she gets the words or saying wrong, though it has improved since she was allowed to leave and live off the base.

That's one of the downsides that came from S.H.I.E.L.D restricting her life like they did for so long. It didn't give her the opportunity to encounter certain social interactions. In this case how certain sentences, no matter how innocently intended, sound far too much like flirting.

While the idea that Nora was asking me on a date is uncomfortable, I do have to admit it's also just as endearing that a lovely woman is just as awkward at this as I am. I will never tell her that though.

"Yes, dinner, food, just food." She confirms as the blush coloring her naturally tan cheeks starts retreating back out of her skin. "I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat, unless you had other plans?"

"No, no plans that can't wait" _No plans period really._ "We will just have to run to a grocery store because I don't have much here at the moment. Did you know what you wanted to cook?"

"Oh no, I didn't mean cooking. I meant a restaurant this time." That surprised me in a different way than before. If she was serious this would be the first time Nora actually wanted to go buy a meal instead of cooking it herself, not that I ever complained about it, because as far as I was concerned she was a better cook than the ones at the base who I was told had to have a culinary degree before they could even apply for the job. "Have you ever had Russian?"

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1659 HOURS

QUINJET CARGO BAY

INTERNATIONAL WATERS

* * *

STEVE

* * *

_Russian?_ I am such an idiot. She took me to this picturesque little Russian restaurant called Mari Vanna that was decorated in all the trappings of an old world country manor. Doilies were on the table, tea and cakes were on the menu, picture frames covered entire walls, and all sorts of antiques right down to the carved dining room sets we sat in. But the real reason she chose this picturesque Russian restaurant wasn't the food so much as the day.

She said it was sister's day, and her sister wasn't around at the moment, she was out on a mission, but this place reminded her of her sister. She ordered a mixed berry Romanoff for dessert and made a toast with tea for her sisters safe return. _Romanoff, because it reminded her of her sister!_

"Agent Romanoff I..." The need to talk to you is cut off by her telling me "Captain, he has people on the ground, you're gonna need to jump."


	90. Chapter 90

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY THREE

CHAPTER NINETY

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1655 HOURS

28 KÖNIGSTRASSE

STUTTGART GERMANY, EUROPE

* * *

LOKI

* * *

It is a pity I could not bring her with me, I always knew the possibility was slim at best given the state she would be in after the ritual, but it became impossible when she revealed she had her memories back. She would attract too much attention, whether that was because she looked weak and sick, or because she was trying to skin me alive. She would have prevented the show I have planned.

I think she would have loved to see this place. It is not exact, but for Midgardian architecture I cannot help but see Asgard in it. Gold and polished marble, stone columns and tall windows rounded at the top, and a gorgeous gilded ceiling.

I could have asked her to dance with me, it was never an option before. If I danced in public with a woman, it was expected that I dance with a Princess or some manner of Noble Lady, not my servant. Not that it mattered much back then, since she had strong feelings about any performance meant for the eyes of others. If she danced she did it only for herself.

Still, before she woke, and realized all my lies, I thought about it, I was even fashioning her a gown in my mind for the occasion. Something that would blend well with Midgardian fashion. A black dress with very clean lines, cut as a halter dress with a very thin collar and a slit in her skirt that exposed her leg softly when she moved. Then to contrast the simplicity, a sheer overlay for the sleeves, ornately decorated with beaded embroidery of leafed vines and small blue flowers, as well as the beadwork extending to her belt, a quarter of the black band decorated with the beading so it did not break up the silhouette completely.

_She would have been so lovely._ Exquisite as she turned her back on her 'friends' and took my hand. I knew they would send someone to try and stop me. The specifics of who did not really matter much to me, even without trying she somehow enamoured each of S.H.I.E.L.D's best. She had the sibling affection of both their 'Hawk' and 'Black Widow', she had the budding love of the 'Soldier' and she even had interest of the inventor to a small degree, though she would have been happy to lose it. Making her choose me in front of any of them would have been a powerful display, one I would enjoy for personal reasons, but also for the fact it would no doubt weaken the stability of the team.

It still will I am sure when it happens later. While it proved impractical for the Gala, it is still something I do, and always have, intended to do. For now it will have to wait until I reunite with her escort.

I let Agent Barton kill the ruined remains of the blond doctor, she paralyzed him so she could torture him as she saw fit, so he was of no more use to me. I wasn't going to waste any stones or energy attempting to fix him. If she was able to incapacitate three soldiers like that she was healthy enough to not need a doctor, just someone with the knowledge of how to maintain an IV.

They called it Ketamine, a substance which has a reputation for a particularly vile use, but would serve my purposes quite well. It would induce a detached, dreamlike state and make it difficult for her to move. While being a born healer meant she had a higher tolerance and was less likely to be affected by mortal drugs, it still was not impossible, and even she could not resist their effects if it was continuously added to her blood one drop at a time.

Before she all but killed him Terrance suggested that completely sedating her would have been the better option, but he only thought that way because of his ignorance. Her abilities have been with her since the day she was conceived, and therefore they exist even when she is unconscious. If we completely sedated her, there was a very high chance her body would continuously burn through her magic in an attempt to heal the 'pain' from the ritual, and when it failed to do that with its own energy it would start looking for a different source, pulling the life out the very men I needed to guard her.

The substance seems to be working wonderfully for now. Even at this distance if I let the connection relax, which I safely can now that she is not actively trying to attack me, I can feel her. She is calm, if not a bit confused from the drug, but most importantly I do not feel any strong sensations of anger or fear. That means she is safe, and nothing has gone wrong.

That information is not the only thing I learn that makes me smile, though the second is from an entirely different source. The cell phone in my pocket, that I took before Agent Barton and his team left to steal the Iridium, just informed me they arrived at Schäfer Sicherheitsdienst which means it is finally time for me to stop being idle and start my performance.

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1656 HOURS

SCHÄFER SICHERHEITSDIENST

STUTTGART GERMANY, EUROPE

* * *

CLINT

* * *

He has me killing innocent people, and the messed up thing is I wish there were more. Me, not the 'thing' in my driver seat.

These guards didn't do anything except work for the wrong company, but I wish there was a lot more of them to kill because that's how I broke free last time. This control he has over me, this shit I volunteered for round two with, it isn't permanent, not by a long shot. It wears off with time and it also seems to wear off quicker when I'm physically active. When I'm murdering people.

That's how it worked before. The flight from P.E.G.A.S.U.S, the attack at her house _god bless her for hitting me with me with a pot of soup,_ both of those seemed to weaken it a little, that blow specifically. It wasn't enough but for a second there I felt like there was a thin spot I could push through. I want to find that spot again, and even if it means I need to kill a dozen more innocent people I think I'm okay with that because if I can break free here, away from Loki, I only have to kill the two mercs he sent with me! _I can warn S.H.I.E.L.D before it's too late, I can help Nora, and I can do something other than stand here and wait for him to steal a man's eye!_

* * *

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

1732 HOURS

QUINJET CARGO BAY

INTERNATIONAL WATERS

* * *

LOKI

* * *

Having my feet knocked out from beneath me by the redirection of my own blast left me quite furious when I rose back up, at least until I saw exactly who caused it. _They sent him._ I could not contain the chuckle, it was almost too perfect an opportunity. _The budding love interest._

Arnora was mine, of that there was no question. But Nora, the woman she lived as for the last three years, she was more his than mine. Her phobia prevented it from ever fully blooming, but anyone who observed them could see it, just as I could when Agent Barton told me of their interactions, that if given half a chance their friendship could very easily turned into love.

His presence left me very tempted with the possibilities. I could present him to her, a broken puppet of the man she knew. I could give her all of them, I thought when suddenly I heard a female voice ordering me to stand down. _They sent her 'sister' as well._

Though, as tempting as it was, dolls for Arnora's collection was not my true purpose there. I had grander plans, and seeing them through to the end was far more tempting, enough so that I even let two mortals land blows on me. Seeing the soldiers surprise when his blow barely even moved me made up for it a bit.

Though being thrown into a set of stone stairs took away much of that joy. I let my armor absorb that impact instead of relying on her magic. It was not worth the risk of it upsetting her yet, not before she was safely secured by solid walls, not the thin framing of a semi trailer.

The handcuffs they put me in were particularly adorable. The fact that they really though such thin metal restraints could hold an 'Asgardian' was almost insulting.

Watching the red haired woman's features break into an angry frown when they brought me aboard was delightful though. Agent Romanoff, partner to Agent Barton, and 'family' to Arnora. I had stolen two of the people she valued most, and neither were with me. Her silence was the most amusing of all. I expected Miss Romanoff to ask about at least one of them as I offered her a slight bow while I walked up the cargo bay and let them strap me into the seat, but she said nothing in the presence of the other men.

She did not say anything, because he did not say anything. S.H.I.E.L.D was keeping it a secret. They had not told the 'Soldier' I had Arnora. Every second I listened to the conversation continue without her name I was more certain of that fact.

And then the lightning stole my attention. _Oh dear._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> Two apologies.  
> First, I wrote half of this on Benadryl because ALLERGIES, so if the quality sucks I'm sorry.  
> Second, if anyone is unhappy with the fact that I just skimmed over an important scene in the movie, that was intentional. This story is about NORA, and well the events of the movie are important, most of them have nothing to do with her situation. Her story just runs a very close parallel to them. So I will continue to throw them in is connecting points from here on out to let the reader know where we are in the movies narrative, but they will be quick and simple.


	91. Chapter 91

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER NINETY ONE

* * *

 FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0203 HOURS

VELES TAXI GARAGE

HELL'S KITCHEN NEW YORK

* * *

 DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

HYDRA is all about 'the new world order' crap, but at a certain point down at the bottom of the ladder, it's really all about just creating chaos. creating fear and misery. Nothing motivates people more than those.

HYDRA's created wars, HYDRA has ended wars. They've cleared the path for certain political leaders, and removed others . They've orchestrated economic recessions or collapses. They've bankrolled terrorist organizations or events, all sorts of big deal stuff. But it's not all big ticket plans. They work the small scale too, you have to when your plan is to make things so bad people are willing to accept a little horrible.

Serial robberies, gang violence, drugs, corrupt cops, police brutality, cover ups and misinformation in the news. Sometimes they even throw in a murder or shooting that goes unsolved just to make people nervous. A couple old ladies die execution style on the way home from the store, the treats they had for their grandchildren scattered and sitting in their blood.

What a tragedy? Why did it happen? Why isn't anything being done? When will they strike again? People get scared and angry, people get stupid, and some group gets paid.

There's a lot of 'em that get paid in Hell's Kitchen. The Kitchen Irish, the Yakuza, the Russians, the Dogs of Hell, Madame Gao's drug trade and any number of other groups clawing for power and property.

I'm running on a very short list of options here. I'm not only trying to hide from S.H.I.E.L.D but the HYDRA moles inside S.H.I.E.L.D, so I couldn't exactly go to any of them for help. It's not like we run around duck walking, and greeting each other with hail HYDRA. We share that secret with the person who recruited us into it, and maybe one other, but most of the time not even that. So I can't trust anyone to really be S.H.I.E.L.D.

That's why I came to this city, and why I'm in one of the Veles taxi garages run by the Ranskahov brothers. Two former Bratva captains who murdered their way out of a prison would have a very hard time getting out of their country, let alone their continent without a little help. Lucky for them HYDRA decided that American soil could benefit from their personal business practices, and we helped bring them over, or I did.

Personally I never wanted to see these assholes again. Human trafficking isn't my thing. that doesn't change the fact I'm standing in a shitty shop bathroom in front of a time worn mirror with a bendable desk lamp on the toilet to make up for the dim ceiling light, and carefully removing my 'eye' with a jeweler's tool set.

I've been really lucky this thing hasn't killed me yet, and for a while I kept telling myself that maybe I should just leave well enough alone. Messing with it might trigger the fail-safe that seems to of malfunctioned. But the truth is, while taking it out might kill me, so will leaving it in because eventually they might figure out a way to reboot this thing remotely, and then I'm definitely dead.

So I decided to man up and flip the damn coin here. I'm not gonna lie, holding those clippers to the plastic wire coating I felt like I might piss myself, but then they cut through clean and nothing happened. _Nothing happened._

I twisted around and dropped myself down on the seat of that toilet, my head leaning so far back and touching the wall, and covering my face in my hands I just started to laugh.

For 5 years, 6 months, 23 days everything I saw was being seen by someone else. I couldn't sleep, drink, piss, or shower without someone else there watching me do it. Every second, whether my eyes were opened or not. It took almost 24 years, for me to understand what freedom felt like. I was too young when it started to realize but I've been a slave to my father from the day he adopted me when I was 5. I should have known something was wrong though when my 'father' put his ten year old 'son' in boot camp.

I just got set free, by a woman who meant to kill me, by another person who lived in a prison without bars, and she did it on my damn birthday! _Oh I'm definitely taking her to France now, if she wants, where ever the fuck she wants._

There was something almost disturbingly delightful about crushing that eye to pieces under my steel toed boot, and flushing the pieces down the toilet after I taped a gauze band-aid over my eye. I couldn't remove the metal housing for the prosthetic, but didn't really plan to, since it was fused with part of my skull. I just wanted the bomb out of my head, and broken beyond recognition before I went and talked to the brothers.

I walked out to find a rather unsurprising surprise waiting for me, in the form of a shirtless muscle head, a semi circle of men and a bunch of closed garage doors. I was really hoping to skip this shit but I knew better. I don't come pre-packaged in prison tattoos and scars like they do in Russia, so my accomplishments in violence aren't declared and don't give me the benefit of an unspoken back the fuck off.

They like to joke I'm a pretty boy, and because this time I walked in clearly on the losing end of a fight, I have to first to prove I'm still a man worth their time. If I want to get to the work part I have to get past the play first. "And he'd be?"

"Boris." The fact that Vladimir is all smirk at the sound of my amused sigh makes it pretty clear which of the brothers set this up. Anatoly on the other hand is at least polite enough to offer me a bottle as I shed my jacket. I always liked Anatoly just a little more. He has less rage and more sense than his younger brother, doesn't mean I'm not gonna enjoy beating the shit out of his man. "Okay big guy, I win you gotta say moose and squirrel."

* * *

0218 HOURS

* * *

"Does it hurt?" Despite those god awful fake nails she is wearing she manages to be gentle as she puts another butterfly band aid over the broken skin around my empty eye socket, doing a decent job and containing her discomfort at the sight. "No love, not anymore."

I was mildly concerned I might lose the fight, because I still had a bullet hole in my hand despite the industrial strength glue holding it closed, and being minus an eye my depth perception was off. But then Boris decided punching me in that eye was a good idea, and after my head stopped ringing I found the idiot hunched over cradling his hand, and I returned the favor by hitting him in the face with a wrench.

They gave me a bottle of Stolichnaya Red and Trixie is a reward.

Trixie is the blond dressed in fishnets and lace, with bruises hidden beneath her thick foundation who is sitting in my lap carefully cleaning up my wounds for me and pouring me drinks. She's one of Vladimir's girls, I can tell by the way she cowers around him, and it makes me want to kill him, but I can't because I need their men. So instead I'm holding a kidnapped woman in my lap, making comments about how I don't want to infect my dick with his left overs and hating myself for every second of it. _I can't save everyone and sometimes good intentions mean you save no one._

"So this job you have, tell us, yes?" Anatoly's the one who asks, his question withheld for half a second as he takes in the sight of the strange lines on my chest under the pretty blond's hands, the sight clearer after my shirt was ripped in the fight. "It's right up your alley, kidnapping and transportation."

"How many?" Smirking I pick up my half of the shots Trixie poured for us. "Just two, me and a woman." And tip it back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> I really didn't want to do it this way, because even though I surrendered to the idea, I still think it's a massive time jump. My only other option though was to rewrite the scenes from the AVENGERS and not only is that unnecessary because we already know them by heart, but the scenes while being important don't apply to Arnora's story. Any attempts I made at connecting them had me repeating what has already been covered, so I just decided to skip ahead to day four.


	92. Chapter 92

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER NINETY TWO

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0226 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER

INTERNATIONAL WATERS OFF EAST COAST, USA

* * *

STEVE

* * *

After we got Loki back on the Quinjet, and his brother who showed up and literally ripped him out of it the first time, we continued our flight back to the Helicarrier.

When we landed it was to an armed escort waiting for the prisoner, Thor intended to follow until Agent Romanoff's hand stopped him. I lost to Loki and I fought Thor for a second in the forest so I knew his strength and his temper. The ease with which she touched an Asgardian worried me for a moment but while he looked mildly surprised he showed no hostility, only mild annoyance when she told him the director needed to see him alone.

Stark's son made his own departure too, disappearing without any complaint of mine to store his Iron Man armor in one of the cargo bays of the ship.

That left me the option to wince my way to the infirmary without any need to put up a tough front anymore in front of my enemies. The serum speed up the rate with which I heal a great deal, but it didn't make it instantaneous, and is infuriating as it is I can't pretend my fight with Loki wasn't humbling.

Cracked left knuckles, bruised sternum, hairline fracture 7-8th posterior ribs, and massive bruising on my outer arms and shoulder from being tossed around like a rag doll. Not even the red skull beat me so soundly, he was my equal not my superior in a fight. I felt like a skinny asthmatic standing off against a thug again, and for the first time since Erskine died, when my punch didn't even make my opponent stumble, I felt afraid.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0241 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER

INTERNATIONAL WATERS OFF EAST COAST, USA

* * *

NATASHA

* * *

"What do you mean she isn't on the table anymore?!"

After I stopped Thor from following Loki and the escort team to the cell, his upbringing as a royal probably doing more than anything I did. He was in a foreign 'kingdom', representing the intentions of his own, and a lady was telling him the 'king' of this 'kingdom' wanted a private audience.

While it wasn't completely accurate to think of S.H.I.E.L.D as a kingdom, it was still close enough to get him to cooperate, and after I guided him to the conference table on the flight deck where he could observe the conversation with the rest of us.

After that 'lovely' little display where Loki revealed his knowledge, and hinted at how though the control he had over Agent Barton must be to get it in the first place I just wanted to leave the room. Not just because Banner now looked at me as a liar, but so I could start preparing an interrogation of my own.

Having Agent Hill standing guard to make sure a fight didn't break out when Stark arrived, and to make sure I didn't reveal anything I shouldn't didn't make me any happier as the seconds ticked on.

Then after the meeting adjourned I found myself in a private one of my own with Nick, and I hated this one even more.

"This is coming right from the Council." His hand coming up silences my protest before it can get much farther then, "And when has that..." _ever meant a damn thing to you Nick?!_

"Natasha a courtyard of at least two hundred people, with cell phones just saw a man with magic carve someone's eye out, blow up a car, beat the crap out of Captain America, and stand up after being shot in the chest by Iron Man! Even though we bagged that footage, every news channel in Baden-Württemberg is talking about that fight, and every single one of them sounds scared."

I see the logic, I understand it's a bigger picture issue. "But..."

"No." His almost angry tone silences me. "Natasha, you aimed a mini gun at a crowd, and yes, I know that was for show but it doesn't matter because to a bunch civilians all they see is that their deaths were acceptable if it meant killing him."

"Agent Eliane is no longer on the table for negotiation. We can't afford to waste time on a woman who as far as we know is still a non-powered untrained individual. Agent Barton is still on the table though. He is a threat to intelligence and people every second he stays under Loki's control, we need to know where the hell he and the tesseract are yesterday, understood?"

"Yeah, boss. We're understood." I don't even wait for his dismissal before I storm off, passing Agent Coulson over as we both round the corner at the same time.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0244 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER

INTERNATIONAL WATERS OFF EAST COAST, USA

* * *

STEVE

* * *

After the meeting finished I intended to seek out the Asgardian who crash landed on the roof of our plane. I saw the report on the New Mexico incident, and while I didn't agree with the God part I could understand the mistake. It was him wield lightning before I got involved in the fight, and the shockwave from his hammer leveled at least 5 acres of forest.

I found him in the middle of a conversation with Agent Coulson and the director though so I decided to wait my turn.

I knew from experience that S.H.I.E.L.D was probably going to let Loki sit for a while, it's the same tactic they used before they started interrogating Dr. Zola after we captured him, letting a person wear themselves down before you do. So with that in mind I decided to return to the room they offered me while I was here and change out of my uniform for the time being. The body armor panels were pressing uncomfortably against my cracked ribs.

I changed my mind when I noticed a small bracelet of red and white stripes with the occasional blue square around a white star. It also had a charm on it with a tiny version of my shield. No, not a bracelet, a collar, a cat collar. And it was sitting on top of a note written in unfamiliar but feminine handwriting. _Find me_.

I barely even finish the second step into the room before I'm back in the halls searching for people, the note and the collar carefully tucked inside my glove.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> Baden-Württemberg is the region/state in Germany that Stuttgart is located in.
> 
> You may have noticed I'm moving quicker and skipping sections of time. In this part of the movie it does that. We get Loki back on the helicarrier, the meeting, a few scenes involving Banner, Stark, Rogers and Romanoff, and then the helicarrier fight happens. And is of right now my main character is basically unconscious and there's not a lot you can do with that, so I am hurrying toward the sunrise, because the action takes place in daylight. Think of it like a rollercoaster, you spend more time climbing to the top then you do speeding around the track, and we have cleared the top.


	93. Chapter 93

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER NINETY THREE

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0347 HOURS

UNMARKED S.H.I.E.L.D GROUND TRANSPORT

INTERSTATE 70, CLAYSVILLE, PA 15323

* * *

RUMLOW

* * *

After we finished cleaning up that fuck up, and didn't find Pierce jr's body or body parts we had to assume he was alive and running. That meant we had to hunt him and put him down. HYDRA doesn't tolerate traitors, and I am more then happy to carry out that execution order.

I never liked him is a person and a S.O, even if I followed him. I always felt his heart wasn't in it, which since they told me he had a souped up joy buzzer in his eye, turns out I was right. There was also the part where he seemed to take particular delight in beating the street out of me in the beginning, but mostly, if I kill him this 'temporary promotion to captain of STRIKE becomes a permanent one.

Personally hope my unit gets to him first. With him off the reservation we aren't the only group out looking for him. Since anything and anyone connected to S.H.I.E.L.D isn't an option for him anymore, he's gonna have to find help from somewhere else. That's why we pulled up his old cases and are sending a greeting party to knock on all the doors of any unaffiliated organizations.

Our teams heading to NYC because there's a trafficking ring out there with connections to him, is well is the information i just got from the phone call with Pierce Sr.

"Okay boys..." Jacks driving so that lets me turn around and look at the men in the back. "good news, Apparently S.H.I.E.L.D's got Loki locked up in the Hulk tank."

That made the back break out in a combination of cheers and groans. Even if were HYDRA we can still take satisfaction in S.H.I.E.L.D's success. Especially when our organization just caught a 'god'. The groans of the group are those who are pissed they weren't part of that mission themselves.

"Now better news. He was alone. That means the only thing between us and the bitch or the bosses son are humans, so the 'do not engage' rules been lifted." Now its nothing but cheers.

"We need to start running on triple time though, Malick pulled some strings and were the only ones looking for the woman now so this windows to perfect to miss. And looks like we drew the right straw" Sitwell was finally able to come through with some info. They figured out that the alien pricks plan needs a reactor, and wouldn't you know there's one of those sitting in the basement of Manhattan's latest skyscraper. "Now...who wants to go kill the bosses boy?"

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0534 HOURS

UNMARKED SEMI TRAILER

INTERSTATE 80, COLUMBIA, NJ 07832

* * *

ERIK

* * *

Loki said she needed to sleep because she would need all the energy she could muster for the fight, so I followed his instructions and left her alone. It wasn't hard really, since her section of the truck bed was pushed all the way to the back, nearest to the cab. But then I had to wait for the engineers to finish assembling the portal device.

Nobody seemed to notice or mind that I wandered off then, they probably just needed me out of the way anyways since our work space was so small now that we were mobile.

She was still sleeping when I parted the curtain a little to peek in on her, and I was going to leave it at that until I noticed the goosebumps on her skin.

"It will be perfect, when you wake up you'll see." After I replaced her almost empty IV I tuck her sheet neatly under her chin, the blanket isn't very heavy or warm, but it should help make her comfortable all the same. "When Loki takes over, he'll set everyone free." Tucking her arm under there takes a little more creativity so it doesn't tug on the tubing. "They'll understand, once they see."

"Doctor?" It's one of our guards whose voice and body pass the curtain. "They've finished the machine, it's waiting for the..." But he barely starts the last word before my eyes widen in excitement. "The iridium, oh yes!"

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0613 HOURS

UNMARKED SEMI TRAILER

INTERSTATE 80, PARSIPPANY, NJ 07054

* * *

ARNORA

* * *

_"It will be perfect, when you wake up you'll see."_ Those words won't stop echoing in my ears, like the distant sound of a human voice, indistinct but somehow crystal clear too.

_My world is moving?_


	94. Chapter 94

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER NINETY FOUR

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0702 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER

INTERNATIONAL WATERS OFF EAST COAST, USA

* * *

STEVE

* * *

It started with me searching for the woman who left the note. _Find me._ That's all that was written but that's not all that was said. That collar sitting on top of it might as well have been a novel for all it told me.

I'd been suspicious ever since Agent Coulson said he would look for information on Nora. I never mentioned a gender in that conversation, but he used the words 'she' and 'her' anyway. I ignored it though because Nora's last name, Eliane, does sound like it would belong to a woman a little more than a man.

But I'd been ignoring a nagging feeling all night and I was done with it. Something was wrong, and that collar told me someone else felt the same way. That's why I started looking for Natasha.

I got sidetracked at the soft yelp that caught my ear as I was passing the lab. Apparently recklessness was still a Stark trait, though I don't remember Howard being stupid enough to openly try and draw out a monster.

The conversation with Banner and Stark sent me on a slightly different hunt. One of higher priority that ended up with distasteful results.

S.H.I.E.L.D was making energy weapons. They were modernizing HYDRA technology, as if a weapon that could vaporize a man in a second needed to be more powerful, let alone exist at all!

I ended up finding Natasha in that argument, or more accurately she ended up finding me when she showed up to take Banner somewhere else. I planned to talk to her about my own questions if the hostility ever settled, but then a bomb went off and the floor fell out from under us.

Things suddenly got very simple: there were real enemies for me to fight.

I ended up helping Stark as he fixed the engine, and kept the Helicarrier from crashing into the ocean, and saving the lives of everyone on board including myself.

Now the fight was over, and we lost our prisoner, a good man. _Ink was supposed to be the next thing to decorate those cards, not blood._

We gained a prisoner too apparently. Agent Barton was the one who was responsible for the explosion, and was left behind when Agent Romanoff subdued him before he could reach Loki.

I was angry, and frustrated, and a little sad when I finally tracked Agent Romanoff down. In the infirmary.

That cooled my temper a bit. Apparently before she fought and subdued agent Barton, her partner, she was backhanded across a room by the Hulk, and it if wasn't for the intervention of Thor, she probably would have been killed.

As much as I want answers I'm not going to demand them in place of a woman's medical treatment. She left that note, that she wants to talk to me too. I just need to be a little patient, there are other conversations I can have while I wait, like with Tony. I saw that look when he walked off, and I've worn that look.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0737 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER

INTERNATIONAL WATERS OFF EAST COAST, USA

* * *

NATASHA

* * *

'You're lucky' is what the nurses said when they wrapped my purple ribs and gave me a local anesthetic for the pain. 'You should be dead.' Is what they were probably thinking.

I took a blow to the side from the Hulk and hit metal with the other. Even being trained on how to take a hit and fall, there's only so much force that those skills can absorb. Then I immediately went out, fought and beat one of the deadliest men in S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Agent Romanoff." My earpiece buzzes, and I already know what Fury's going to say next. "Barton's up." One who I intend to go talk to right now.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0754 HOURS

S.H.I.E.L.D HELICARRIER

INTERNATIONAL WATERS OFF EAST COAST, USA

* * *

CLINT

* * *

"But you don't." Nat came in and sat with me, told me I was gonna be alright, told me it would take time, told me she fixed me the 'American way', by hitting me harder, then basically said 'Now let's go kill the bastard'. I was grateful for all of it, and confused by the last. "You're a spy, not a soldier."

"Now you want to wade into a war." I knew Natasha would be willing to take Loki down and get Nora back, but I figured she'd be working the intelligence half of the mission. She never fought Loki, or an Asgardian period, but we'd seen the footage and we both understood we were outclassed. I knew it when I pulled a gun on him, even before he proved it. "Why?"

But now the way she is talking, 'We gotta stop him. I don't know. Whoever's left.' She sounds like she is standing on the edge of desperation. "What did Loki do to you?"

When I told him all her secrets, I knew the bastard would use 'em, and I can see some of that pain in her, behind what anyone else would see as calm. I know it's part of that, part Nora, and maybe part me that's driving her here, but I need to know what motivated her here before it might cause trouble out there.

The ledger. Its Nat's term for the things 'they' made her do. Its her word for the things that keep her up at night, the things she hates doing. It's something she's barely added to since she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. That she mentioned it at all means she added something today, and that's all I need to know.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0803 HOURS

VELES TAXI GARAGE

HELL'S KITCHEN NEW YORK

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

S.H.I.E.L.D didn't know what they were looking for, but I knew a little and that gave me an advantage.

Loki said he would make it invisible to the satellites, but you can't have a car like that on the road, or there would an accident every five seconds. So I hacked a weather satellite feed and started comparing it to traffic cams, looking for a truck I couldn't see the top of. It took me a while, but I found it.

They made a detour to a truck stop just before the NJ turnpike in Secaucus, and thing got a little more tricky there with the footage available. I know they moved something to a new truck though, and since it it only took them five minutes, I know it wasn't the machine. They were splitting the cargo, and she was going somewhere else, probably somewhere far away from wherever the fighting might happen.

So I stopped tracking the invisible truck. I let one of the most dangerous things on the planet drive off so I could follow a woman instead. Every instinct is an agent, doesn't matter what side, was screaming at me for that, but I'm just going to have to hope my faith in S.H.I.E.L.D isn't misplaced and leave that up to them. The tesseracts not my mission.

I found them too. HYDRA operates undocumented, but as part of a paramilitary organization they aren't without their patterns, and I noticed one of them. They're hunting us. That's not good news, but it still makes me smile because their route matched the trucks, and that means I'm right.

That also means I have to get the Russians to hurry because the truck just got on New Jersey 495 and Nora is less than a half hour from our door.


	95. Chapter 95

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER NINETY FIVE

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0847 HOURS

UNMARKED SEMI TRAILER #2

UNKNOWN HIGHWAY?

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

It felt like... getting hit with a red hot ball of metal thrown by a professional pitcher. Heat and solid crushing force collided with my chest without touching it at all. I barely even moved an inch from the 'blow', because whatever it was didn't actually touch me. The pain that followed made me move much more.

It felt like I had a crack in my sternum with heat bleeding into it, and these bastards wouldn't stop trying to hold me down!

The truck was different, I knew that somehow even though I don't recall the first truck at all. Erik's voice, like it was filtered through water, is in my head, telling me he will see me soon.

Erik isn't here now. Even with phantoms trying to dance in from the edges of my peripheral I know that. None of the scientists are here now, just the soldiers. now there's one less.

"Her skin, watch her skin!" I don't know if what I did was enough to kill him, all I know is he is on the grounds swearing through clenched teeth.

These aren't my clothes. At some point in my unconsciousness someone redressed me, and given that I can feel leather and metal I imagine it was Loki. he was wrapping me in his colors to display me later. That's not important at the moment though. What does matter to me is that this outfit has no sleeves, and a skirt that leaves the lower half of my legs exposed. I intend to use every inch of that generosity to my advantage.

"Dammit! Hold her still!" When I first started thrashing the IV in my arm ripped free of the bag. Then someone's boot stepped on the tube as well so it ripped the rest of the way out of my arm. That means I'm bleeding and I intend to use that too. Which they know.

The fact that they do puts me at a disadvantage. I'm still weak. Between what they gave me which still has me disoriented, and my magick was being drained to heal Loki from these men are able to out muscle me. "The gloves! Where are the rubber gloves?" And they know that.

I learned that thanks to HYDRA, and thanks to HYDRA's old files so did they. My magick can affect organic matter. It doesn't affect minerals or synthetic matter though, only things capable of cell division. Rubber is synthetic. Its how those monsters were able to do what they did to me and live.

Not all of them started with gloves on, but there were still enough of them to bodily keep me on the weapon crate long enough for more hands to join the effort. They are going for limbs first, and one of them is trying to cuff my ankle to the crate, the metal already around my ankle.

Another tries to restrain my head, one of hands fisting in my hair and the other aiming for my neck. He fucked up by grabbing my hair first because he assumed I wouldn't put myself through that pain. I ignored the burn in my scalp as a section of my hair tears out and I sink my teeth into his arm below the glove.

The sound of one of them screaming distracted the men holding my legs down and allowed me to free one. I immediately used it against the bastard trying to chain me down, driving my heel into the side of his head and pinning his skull to the side of the trailer. I could see the thin metal bowing a bit under the force before a baton comes down on my knee cap.

Then there was the sound of metal screaming.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0849 HOURS

VELES TAXI

W 72ND ST & AMSTERDAM AVE

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

We rolled out the the second they entered the Lincoln Tunnel on the Jersey side, and when they came out, I was waiting on the 10th St bridge with a tracker gun.

Courtesy of the modern age I didn't have to worry up DIY'ing a bunch of GPS trackers because there's an app for that on most phones. We just had to go grab a half a dozen burners. So once the beacon was hot I slipped into my own cab with a passenger.

When trailing someone a general rule is stay at 3 least car's back. In a place like NYC cabs are plentiful so we could relax a little on that, plus these were mercs, not spies we were tailing. Only thing we had to worry about was them picking up on the same cab following them too long, or the cab being empty. That's why I have a Russian thug in the backseat, like the other four cabs. its also why we switch out occasionally, one of the other cabs swinging in from the side streets and taking the lead.

I was in the lead when it happened.

The shot came from the upper left, one of the roof tops. I could tell that much but I didn't have time to lock down the location before it hit its target like a cannon.

Whatever they fired tore through the engine block of the truck in front of me so hard the wheels buckled off the ground and sparks a shower of sparks formed. Then the sparks stopped. The whole truck jack knifed around the manhole when part of it fell in, and if I wasn't trained in combat driving I would have lost my windshield to the bumper beam.

On the other side of the trailer someone wasn't is lucky. it took out a taxi in the process. the driver tried his best to swerve but only managed to hit it broadside instead of head on, which made the trailer start to tip. then when the tail end of it hit a street lamp the trailer snapped free as the whole thing started to roll!

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0854 HOURS

TRAFFIC ACCIDENT

W 72ND ST & AMSTERDAM AVE

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

It's strange how loud the quietness is, its just this piercing ringing in my right ear that my hand can't drown out. _I have blood on my hand?_

I was on my back a second ago, but now I'm pushing myself up with my hands. One hand was on something wet, warm, and solid while the other was yanking itself back from the jagged edges cutting my palm beneath my weight.

The movement made me fall back over off balance, but this time on my side instead of my stomach, and it made the body under me let out a groaning cough.

Man, men, enemies. I was in a truck with my enemies. This man with part of a broken handcuff in his chest is my enemy.

When he weakly tries to grab me I punch him in the face, and realize that hurt more then it should.

I have a piece of metal embedded in my shoulder. The shape of it confuses me for a moment before I realize it is the part of an IV stand that you hang the bags from. _Well, they stuck me with it after all._ I doubt the laughter would seem appropriate to anyone but me.

I can hear something now. A dull rhythmic noise with a punctuated thump. I think its the tires of the truck, its just strange that it's above me. There's another groan, but this one is from metal and sounds like it's coming from the end of the trailer.

God my knee really hurts. I think they cracked the cap a little, but that doesn't stop me from hobbling to my feet and straddle.

His rubber covered hands try to catch mine again, so I punch him in the face once more. The force I put into it actually makes me lose my balance, but the way his eyes roll back from the blow renders that moment of vulnerability unimportant.

So does the metal arm when I rip it out of my shoulder and grabbing his short hair start forcing it through the side of his neck until it clears the other. Nobody gets to hurt me twice, not anymore. Loki may have limited how much energy I have but that's okay because he gave me enemies. My fingers take its place when I pull the piece of metal out, and use the life left in his body to heal mine.

The cloth smells like almonds.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0855 HOURS

TRAFFIC ACCIDENT

W 72ND ST & AMSTERDAM AVE

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

_Oh she is gonna be so pissed when she wakes up._ With the help of some of the witness, spurred by the sight of the bloody arm visible through the warped door and a few of the Russians we managed to pry open the bent doors on the back, a fact that took longer with the weight of the wheels crushing the frame. But we got it open just far enough for me to wiggle my way inside while they continued to work on the door.

When I saw her straddling a man, and sticking her fingers in his jugulars I decided I didn't want a repeat of that park. I took advantage of the fact she didn't notice me yet I chloroformed her. I don't know who exactly the shooter was, other than the obvious assumption that it was a HYDRA sniper but I saw what they took out the truck with. There was a rod sticking out of the engine, and if their packing a rail gun we really need to go!


	96. Chapter 96

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER NINETY SIX

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0900 HOURS

TRAFFIC ACCIDENT

W 72ND ST & AMSTERDAM AVE

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

Even though I was in a one hell of a hurry, now that I had the unconscious mass of a woman in my arms I couldn't wrestle open the bent doors again, and I had to wait for the people on the outside to do it for me. Thankfully by then the emergency responders were on the scene and a couple fireman with power saws and crowbars made quick work of the door.

The fact they didn't lobe a gas container inside first told me there were the real ones, and not HYDRA. I also quickly recognized that the Russians were pissed.

This wasn't supposed to be how the grab went down. We planned on making our move after the truck cleared the other side of Central Park, that's where the ambush team and the escape van were waiting. but the snipers actions stopped us near the middle. A sniper who who I neglected to mention might be there, with weaponry I neglected to tell them we might run into, and a lot more cops then they had the guns to handle. I may have left out some details.

A flash from the south east caught my attention, and the rest of the crowds too. It came from STARK tower but while they were curious what the hell was happening, I was switching right into oh shit mode. My first thought was that flash was a sniper's scope, illogical as that was, any sniper in HYDRA would know better then to let that happen.

My second thought was worse. I didn't know where the alien bastard was going, I wasn't around long enough to need that information, but where ever he went I knew Iron Man would probably end up there too, and those fireworks warn me the party might happening here.

Then we reached the fun part. My plan was to get her in a damn vehicle. I even had one in mind, one of the better cabs with the protective divider between the passenger seat and the driver. But then HYDRA putting armor piercing rounds through the cabs. I don't know why it wasn't my head but I do know they did it to limit my escape options to one.

It started a gunfight between the Russians and the cops, because Ranskahov's boys are crazy, and when neither side knows where the first shot came from they assume it was the other guys. That also means the cop cars were not an option because they were using the vehicles as shields, and I'd have to risk getting shot to take it.

If I was getting out of here, it was going to be on foot. An option that was about as far from good idea as I could get, because it meant I'd have to carry her. _This is what I get for knocking her out._ The option became a little less terrifying when the sky suddenly opened up, and an army of aliens on space gliders started blowing up cars and buildings.

I am in a forest of skyscrapers, and they're blowing chunks out of them. _Okay, fine, we're going to Central Park._ I am getting out of here before those chunks start raining down on my head.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0906 HOURS

ROOFTOP

2061 BROADWAY NEW YORK, NY 10023

* * *

RUMLOW

* * *

"Mission command, the sky's ass just opened up! Please advise!"

I was pissed when the Soldier disobeyed my order to ventilate the son of bitch, saying some shit about needing 'target 1 unharmed' as if he could miss and thinking I needed to be reminded what the fuck the mission objectives were.

Then a wormhole formed above Midtown and that was no longer something I had time to care about. We didn't have orders about this. The only orders we had about aliens other than the bitch, was to stay the fuck away and don't get touched. But that was about Loki, and the thing that just flew close enough for me to catch a glimpse of sure as hell doesn't look like Loki.

"Mission command, we have multiple airborne hostiles with superior weaponry, do we abort? Please advise!" Silence is about as close to an answer that I get, so I make my own. "Okay, screw this. Missions still a go. Armor on..." _We have no idea how hard those weapons will hit_ "...and pack it up, we're moving to the ground."

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0915 HOURS

PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

_Why is it always my chest?_ It's not a pain so much as a collision ache, honestly it feels a bit like someone bounced a basketball off me and I haven't quite regained my breath yet. Its really annoying, and then my hands stutter on their way to rub the discomfort away.

The soft scrape of leather caresses my wrists before its stopped by the width of my palms. I'm tied up, I think to a tree if the rough itch against my arms is right. And have cotton cloth rolled up and clenched between my teeth, the knot digging into the back of my head.

"Hey" I know that voice! "Yeah, I know, you hate me." Duncan.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0916 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

Her breathless groan gave me a heads up. The chloroform should have kept her out a little longer, but I didn't hang on that detail very long. I learned the hard way how this woman defies my expectations, and if she was any signs of waking up I didn't plan to be touching her when she did.

So I set her down carefully in the grass and tied her to a tree with my belt. I also used the bandanna in my hoodie as a gag. Not to keep her from screaming, because at this point it doesn't matter if she does. We have aliens flying around the city, everyone is screaming. I just did it so she couldn't bite me.

Then I hunkered down against a tree on the other side of the clearing and waited. I didn't have to wait long. She coughed a little harder and shifted her shoulder, I think with the intentions to move her arms. Then she realized she couldn't, and with one word she also realized I was there.

_Hey._ I shot her 'brother' and tried to choke her to death, and the best I can open with is 'Hey', I'm legitimately ashamed of myself for that, but I got nothing else.

There's murderous intensity in those eyes. I knew it would be there, but I still couldn't crush the part of me that hoped it wouldn't. Hanging my head a little with a sigh and weak smile I little that wistfulness die before I met those eyes again. "But we need to talk."


	97. Chapter 97

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER NINETY SEVEN

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0916 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

_I left him in the park, I left him bleeding and dying, and now he's here in front of me, in a HOODIE AND SHADES!_ I remember smashing his face in before the blood loss and drugs overcame me, and I passed out. I remember 'Nora' caring about him, caring about his safety. I remember 'her' relief when he found 'her' in that forest. 'her' certainty they would all be alright before he revealed he was the shooter. I remember how 'she' felt when my blood lust welled up and saved us both. I'm not Nora, and Nora is not me, the only thing we share is our body.

A body this bastard put his hands on. He stabbed me, struck me and choked me! I thought I killed him for that, for Clint! I won't make that mistake again, this time I'll take his head off just to be sure. _He bound me with leather and cotton, he bound me with nothing._

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0916 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

I can almost hear the cotton grating against her teeth as I watch the muscles in her jaw tense so much they pulse. I'm really glad I decide to do that, even if part of me does feel wrong about doing that to a woman. A deeper part of me recognizes that the life form in front of me is closer to a predator than a woman. _She looks small and helpless, but that distant holdover from when humans were apes sees a tiger in the woods._

"Now you got every reason to hate me, I know." My instincts are pretty much screaming at me for still hunkering down on my heels, not standing in the less vulnerable position above her. The agent in me knows better. Putting myself in a dominant position right now will definitely destroy my chances of convincing her she shouldn't kill me. "But none of that was my fault."

 _Right..._ I recognize it even as that horror story rolls off my tongue like a bad case of verbal diarrhea. _...Let's just make her want to murder you more man!_ The scared primate part of me was a little stronger than I thought. "I wasn't in control back there, that wasn't my choice. Now I'm gonna take that gag out..." _That warning bell I'm ignoring sounds pretty much like a screaming monkey in my head._ "...So we can talk, and I'll tell you everything cause there's a lot going on you don't know."

That big cat analogy gains ground when her snarl sinks into the skin of her nose, but I don't let it stop me. I have to stand to walk across the clearing, but I make it as non threatening as possible. I got my arms up, and out. Not behind my head. from that position I know she's smart enough to know I could reach something strapped to my back. I also keep my pace slow, and I try to keep my eyes on her as I kneel back down. The flash of an electric explosion still hooks my attention though.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0917 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

It took a fraction of a second, and the power of my rage. I did nothing to the gag, because it would give me away. The belt that touched my skin had already crumbled to dust though, so when the explosion pulled his gaze to the left I swung at his right! He caught it, or at least the leather part. His reflexes were fast, but not enough to stop the belt buckle from cracking him in the ear. _Not your fault?! You'll tell me everything?! You think you get to come here and talk like MY BROTHER after you shot him?! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!_

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0917 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

_Ah-shit._ Even as a thought the words sort of slur together in my head as the blow sends my balance reeling, and my body stumbling. It's smart of her, and it gave her a chance to wrap her fists in my hoodie. But I've been training since I was a kid and hand to hand is muscle memory at this point.

I switch my grip to slip inside her arms, and grabbing her own collar I start the roll. My feet find their place in her stomach automatically, before my legs unbend, and throw. She lands a good five feet from me.

I'm back on my feet before she is, my arms out at a defensive guard and my stance squared for balance. She on the other hand rolls awkward to a stop before she gets her hands and knees under her with heaving breaths. _Come on lady, don't do this. You were just in a car accident._ "I don't want to hurt you lil hen, stay down."

So much for that idea, she literally growled at me past the bandanna. _Right, no more using that nickname._

She tries a kick next, and I'm goddamn glad I dressed wisely for this encounter. I'm in a hoodie and jeans, wearing gloves because she seems to need physical contact for what she does. That's why when I step into the attack I wrap my arm around her thigh before she can get her right leg all the way up. I don't want it to touch my head and kill me right away. Then I hook my leg around the back of her left one, and driving my palm into her chest I knock her off her feet.

I could have dropped into a leg lock too at that point but I let her go. I don't want to hurt her after all, and I don't want to give her a chance to get her hands past my clothes.

Her recovery is even slower this time. Her eyes go wide as her back lands on a rockier section of the terrain. The breath getting knocked out of her, with droplets of bloody spittle. Then those eyes squeeze so tight they ring out tears, and her arms wrap protectively around her knee. On the leg I grabbed her by.

My maneuver shouldn't have been enough to do any real damage to her leg. I don't know what got hurt when that semi started rolling with her inside it though. I want to do something about that pain, but I also know that approaching her right now is the worst idea ever. She's more like a wild animal right now, and you don't approach those when they're hurt. "Nora, you need to stop. I'm not your enemy anymore. Just listen to me, please?"

Her knuckles crack as they dig into the dirt, the breathless hate overcoming the pain in her eyes as she looks at me again. Then she crawls a few feet farther and dishearteningly struggles to her feet with a branch in her hand. "Please?"

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0918 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

_Please, stop, listen, not my enemy._ He's got too many fucking words, all he ever had was too many god damned words. Those words are going to stop, I need them to stop. Everything I felt for him before I knew who I was, it's still in my head, and it won't go away until he does.

When he sees me start to move so does he, and that's his mistake. He's better than me at this, but that's okay, because I don't have to play fair.

He drops down in for a leg sweep as I start to swing the piece of ash tree in my hand, and his foot breaks right through the earth.

I can affect organic matter, tree roots and soil are nothing but organic matter. _He chose a park, the idiot!_ He either didn't know, or didn't understand the extent of what I could do. I suspected that when he chose what he used to tie me up with, and was sure when my first strike surprised him.

I rotted the ground when I dug my fingers into the earth, creating a sinkhole to catch him in, and it worked. All I had to do was draw him close enough for his weight to break the ceiling. cradling my half healed knee in 'agony' certainly didn't hurt my plan.

The pain there was definitely real though. Cracked bone takes more time and energy to to heal, and I didn't have enough of either before he knocked me out.

One leg sinks all the way down into the hole while the other leg bends at the knee trying to catch his fall. Then before those hands can start to pull his mass out of the hole I take my turn. He successfully catches the branch as I swing it, and he also catches my ankle. That's his biggest mistake.

As he yanks his leg out from under me and sends me falling on my back again, I wrap my fist around his wrist and take it with me. One leg lands beneath him but my other leg landing over his throat as I put him in sloppy arm bar. I have his skin in my hands now. I win.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0918 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

_FUCK!_ Her leg's not even that heavy, but it still feels like someone laid a metal pylon on my neck. _A really hot one!_ I can feel that burn again. I messed up. I thought she needed blood contact for what she does. But I can feel that acid race in from where her has me by the wrist, and sinking into the veins in my neck. I can't even breathe, my lungs seem to have locked up. _NOT AGAIN, NOT LIKE THIS!_

I used to beg from God a lot, praying to him for help when I realized how horrible my life was destined to be. Eventually though when all I got was the next level of worse, I stopped deluding myself. Hope like that only got you hurt. _God, please, not like this, don't let me die like this._ Hopes really hard to kill though I guess.

Turns out maybe god finally listened, because she screamed and let go.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0918 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

It wasn't just my chest this time. My ribs on the left side, my shoulder, my chest, my arms, and the brow bone of my left eye all erupted in sharp pain. each not even a second a apart, and the last one splitting the skin.

The shock of it was enough to make me lose my grip, and I'm half aware of him rolling out of my reach gasping for air. I almost want to laugh at that. I had him, I was winning, but at least I'm not the only one who is coughing up blood.

Maybe when he shoots me, it will take Loki too. I want to kill him myself, but that will be enough for me.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0919 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

There's a scared animal in my head, and all it wants to do is live. That's why after I got air back in my burning lungs, I un-holstered my pistol and aimed it at her head. _She tried to kill me, she almost killed me!_

But now, a couple breaths farther into calm, I can think past the adrenaline again. She's on her hands and knees, one arm so weak its holding her up by the elbow. I see blood on the dirt under her as she chokes on her own laugh, the sound hollow and resigned. "Ju...just do it."

 _Just do it._ Just kill her she says. Just blow her damn head off she says as she is drowning in her own blood for some reason I clearly missed. And I should. The animal in my head says I really should have minutes ago, because this woman is a some kind of monster! But I know, I know some of what made her that way.

I'm Alexander Pierce's son. I'm the kid he adopted so he could groom a man to take his place. I'm someone who has read her files. HYDRA took a beautiful 24 year old woman and shot her in the stomach at a dinner table. They filled her veins with chemicals and poison to see what would happen. They carved out pieces of her while she was awake, because they didn't want to waste the anesthesia! They used nerve gas as a method to control her if she got out of hand! They thought they couldn't kill her until they did. She lost so much blood her heart stopped and she suffered brain damage. _I'd be a wild animal after that too._ That's not even counting what might have happened with Loki when I wasn't around. _I'm gonna regret this._

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0919 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

He sets his gun on the ground in front of me. That's what made me look up at him, my confusion and anger blurring as they fought each other for control. _What kind of bad joke is this?_

He set the other one down, this one smaller, a concealed carry. Four tactical knives joined the pile. Then so do his gloves, and his hoodie, and his shirt. Then he peels the bandage away from his left eye.

There is no left eye. There is an egg shaped metal frame, rimmed in broken skin, with nothing inside.

There are bruises on his skin, I could see more of them then skin. Marks varying from black to yellow. Dark lines flowing the veins in his body and matching the bones nearest to the surface. Some spots were even swollen with blood pooling so close to the surface it blistered.

"Lady, I know it sounds fun, but please stop trying to kill me. I already know you can."

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0919 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

Since she didn't put her hand in my empty eye socket and rip off my skull, I'm gonna go with she is willing to listen. _So I'm gonna keep talking before she changes her mind._

"I've been living with a camera bomb in my skull for more than 5 and a half years now. I've been following the orders from it so I don't die for more than 5 and half years, until you beat my face in with a log, and broke it. I don't know how that didn't kill me out-right, but Lady, you set me free. From that bastard Loki's control too."

That really got her attention. "Yeah. He did to me what he did to Barton, used some sort of magick trick on my eyes to keep them from glowing I think. Point is Lady, if I was smart I'd be running the hell away from all this, but I owe you. So if you want to kill me, I just gave you six more options."

 _Please, please don't take those options._ "Or, you can let me help you get the hell out of here before more bad guys show up?"

I swear to Christ, watching her take two minutes to think about it put me twenty years closer to a heart attack. Then when she does speak it's my laugh that sounds a little crazy. She wants to keep the serrated knife.

 _Oh, I'm an idiot._ "Lady, at this point, you can have whatever you want." _Please God don't let her kill me with my stuff._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:  
> If you're wondering what the pain she felt was from, it's the scene right after Loki shoots the quinjet out of the sky, and Thor rains a series of blows on him in response.


	98. Chapter 98

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER NINETY EIGHT

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0920 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

I felt it, and that's why I didn't kill him. Seeing the hollow metal casing in his skull caught me off guard. so did the bruises where his blood pooled under his skin. It was enough to make me hesitate, but it was the energy I felt in him in the silence that changed my mind.

It was unfamiliar, but I didn't need to know it to know it wasn't supposed to be there. I walked among the Vikings, among humans. Even half a millennium apart, there is nothing different between those humans and the one's populating the planet now. I know what the energy inside a human body is supposed to feel like. I spent several decades closing slashes and sealing broken bones after all.

_In Duncan though..._ it's like the static hum right before a lightbulb burns out. The energy is weak and crackling around the energy, and angry. There's an echo of consciousness in this energy. It feels aware of me. It sparked harder against my energy as I examined his aura, almost stinging in its weakness. _It felt full of rage and fear._

I also stopped because I knew I would need him. Loki was transferring his pain to me, stealing my magick to heal himself. That meant two things. He was an asshole, and he was fighting with enemies. There would be more pain.

I needed someone to take care of me when it came, and protect me if the worst happened. I knew I wouldn't be able to predict when the next wave of pain was coming. It would just appear out of the blue and there would be no fighting it. All I could do is feel it, hoped it faded quick and didn't happen in a fight.

That's why I needed him. If the pain hit me during a fight it would steal my chances at victory. Worse still, if I passed out it might guarantee my death. I don't really want that unless I'm sure it will take Loki with me.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0920 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

I don't know why she changed her mind, and I don't much care. I'm just thrilled that she did so easily. I knew I only had half a chance of persuading her, and that estimating it at 50% was aiming high too. Hope is hard to kill, and with her hope seems to be the only thing I really have.

That and the memory and physical presence of her skin against my hands. She said she wanted the knife, so I let her have it. I knew it wasn't like I could keep her from taking what she wanted anyway. Agreeing was just the best way to avoid her kicking my ass again and taking it. Then she demanded my gloves.

I really wanted to say no to that one. The words 'lady, at this point, you can have whatever you want' were running laps in my head though. Reminding me again how much of an idiot I am.

I also understood, or at least guessed why she might want them. I get the impression she believes me, but that doesn't mean I'm anywhere near her trusting me. We probably can't even see that shoreline yet. She is stacking the deck in her favor in case I betray her again. I can't blame her, I'd do it too.

She left them sitting on the tree roots when she held out her hand for me to help her up. Part of me really wanted to go back and pick them up, then other part of me didn't even dare. Not just because she scared me, but those tree roots were all that was left of that tree.

I watched her put her hands on it, and the thing die. The leaves started to turn, like it hit fast forward and skipped to fall. Then went from green to brown and brittle and rained down, forming a giant leaf pile around her.

That's not all that happened to the tree though. I could hear it crackling. It sounded like a damp log in a fire, it just was missing the flames. The wood popped and hissed as it dried. I knew that's what was happening as I watched the bark fall off, from the base to the tip. I backed up at that point, because the small branches were starting to fall too.

I could see the wood underneath form cracks. The moisture in the tree was evaporating, and pulling the wood apart is it shrank! Those cracks let the decay spill out. She was rotting the tree from the inside out! I could see tiny soft splinters of wood rolling out of the openings. Not to mention the stampede of some very terrified bugs mixed in with them. Thats was before we even got to the mushrooms.

Yeah, mushrooms the size of pen caps, and basketball started forming. They grew so quickly they were born and died in a matter of moments, and the next generation was born on top of them. They were born on the back of the tree. I didn't get that until it happened. The tree reached a point in its death that it lost the strength to stand, and it fell in that direction. _She guided the fall, she's clearly done this before. Definitely not just a Bloodmage. What the hell are you lady?_

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0924 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

I absorbed the small tree before we left. I only had enough time to mend the crack in my knee before Duncan knocked me out, not heal. Then in the fight with him a moment ago, the pain welled back up.

Plant life, is life. It falls under the scope of organic material I can affect or use. Earth isn't like Asgard though. On Asgard there is so much 'magick' that the energy permeates the very air you breath. On Asgard I could perform a series of complex surgeries for most of the day before I became exhausted. Here though, I have to depend on energy supply within my own body. That supply is limited. It requires time to recuperate once it's exhausted, unless I steal the energy from life.

I learned that in Norway. When I had to take life, or starve. I wept at first. The animals came to me with curiosity and good faith, and they died in their sleep for it. I wanted to give them a peaceful death, but what I really wanted was to eat. The energy in plant life is less compatible than animal life, but I hate killing so plants are also the method I prefer. The tree gave me enough energy to create a calcium seal in the crack. It's not a permanent solution but it will let me walk without is much pain.

I scared the crap out of Duncan with it. When I turned and held out my hand for him to help me up I could tell. He was wide eyed and slack jawed, if his mouth was open at least. I knew that expression. A couple centuries ago the look would have been followed by kneeling and chants. _Praise from people saw a goddess and not a 17 year old girl._

The sight of a 'space whale' casting its shadow over our heads broke us free from that moment. There was no time for amusement and reverence.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0925 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

"I don't suppose you got any idea what those are, do you?" I asked the question knowing the answer was probably 'no'. I got the impression that Loki only told her the details necessary to manipulate her. I doubt the specifications on an alien army were among those. I'm really just asking because talking helps distract me. It keeps me from focusing on the fact I have her arm around the back of my neck, and my hand on her waist.

After I helped her up neither of us missed the way her limp was going to slow us down. I made myself man up, after asking her permission, and trusted her with my life again. I only have to do this until we find a car. _Why is it so damn hard to find a car? It's NYC during an alien invasion, and no one ditches there car in Central Park? Come on!_

"He just said they were his... ngh..." That sound caught my attention. The painful groan has her all but doubling over is she barely manages to hiss out the rest of "...his allies."

Releasing her to get a better vantage I watch is she lets her own weight crumble under some kind of pain. _She did this earlier too, screaming and coughing up blood for no reason._ "Hey, you okay kitten?"

"I AM NOT A SMALL ANIMAL!" She all but growls is her face shoots back up with a snarl.

WHOA!" Instinct has my hands up in surrender and shifting back a little at her anger. "whoa, whoa, whoa, bad habit, course your not, your big beautiful jungle cat, okay? Better?" I realize too late that those words might not be any better. When she drops her face back down with a breathless chuckle though I breath out a sigh of relief. That's before she goes back to trying to hug the pain out of her stomach.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0925 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

"What's happening to you?" He finally asks when he bolsters his courage again, and gently rests his hand on my shoulder. "I think... he... got kicked by a horse." I manage to breath out past the pain in my torso.

"What?!" Then I remember that my answer would only confuse him. He wasn't there when Loki did this to me.

"It's the mark." I sit a little straighter, half with determination, and half with the fact the pain is lessening. I find it amusing that he tries to avoid looking at the mark in question. Loki left a triangle opening in my dress to expose it, something I'm sure only was half to do with comfort. Propriety and self preservation on the other hand are what motivates Duncan's respect. "The marks where the pain comes through." He doesn't bother asking the next question because it's predictable. "Loki linked us."

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0925 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

_Loki linked us._ She is kneeling here in pain with a mark on her chest that makes me thing I took LSD, and says 'Loki linked us'. _The pain she is feeling is from his._ "Your people can do that? That piece of shit!"

She huffs softly at that and nods before she resumes her careful breaths. She's trying a new tactic to work past the injury that's not even hers. "What else can it do?" Her eyebrows are drawn tight in confusion is she lefts her face to spare me a glance. "Can you send stuff back?"

Its an idea that both pleases and disturbs me, but it might be worth considering if its possible. If she can send Loki pain with whatever that 'link' is, maybe we should try it. That means she has hurt herself though.

"I think it's a one way street." She answers after a pause. Then she shifts her weight forward on her hands and pushes herself back up to her feet. I help with the effort is I wrap my hand around her forearm and hold out the other for her to take.

"You think?" Then I ask the stupid question, her movement freezes in place and stops mine with it. "IT DIDN'T COME WITH A MANUAL!"

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0926 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

His hands pull back to hold themselves up in surrender, or at least one starts to. My fingers wrap around the hand that was holding mine, making the other stutter in hesitation. "Okay, sorry." His apology is quick and defensive "You don't know what it can do, got it." and wrong. That's not why I grabbed his hand.

"Nora?" He realizes that too is he notices the frightened look sinking into my eyes. "Nora, what's wrong."

"He's looking. I can feel him..." It's like a rubberband in my head. I can feel it stretching. The vibrations traveling through it is it pulls tighter. The rubberband might be a metaphor but I hate to think of what might happen if 'it' snaps. "...he's looking for me!"

_I want to kill him for what he did to me, but I'm not ready. He has an army now. I can't fight an army! it's just me and Duncan! Loki can control my magick. I'm not ready!_

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0926 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

_Yep, that's panic setting in._ Hers isn't alone, because I am scared of running into the guy again too. I just broke two sets of control, and all it would take is him poking me with that staff again to bring one of them back. But I'm also trained to deal with scary is hell situations.

"Hey..." I let her continue to hold my right hand, and use my left to catch her other one and her attention with it. "...hey, hey, hey! It's okay. Close your eyes." She looks confused behind that desperation, but I don't have time to stop. "I'm gonna carry you. Don't kill me."

She's clever and looses her confusion after that, switching from scared into see no evil mode. She even trusts me is I slip my hands under her legs and scoop her up like a bride. She said she doesn't know what this bond can do, so we are not going leave him a visual road map right to us.

Now we really need a damn car!


	99. Chapter 99

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER NINETY NINE

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0928 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

I needed a place to take her. Somewhere quiet, safe, and as secure as possible in this bullshit alien invasion. So I choose the zoo. Its not like I really wanted to, but I figured that in Central Park, that might be the place with the best doors. What made it sound even better was the fact that it wasn't very far, and she is bleeding.

I felt her trembling at first, I was holding her after all. I thought it was just fear or discomfort. She had an ESP pain link on her chest, and might have a homing beacon in her head after all. That's until I shifted her weight a little and the movement exposed an inch of skin she'd been hiding behind her arms. Her chest was smeared with blood. The mark was thrashing and bleeding!

She spared enough of her concentration to answer my 'what the hell?!' question, and then went right back to whatever she was doing even though I told her to stop. She said she was trying to shut him out. I told her to stop, that 'tattoo' was over her heart, she was only gonna make things worse!

She wouldn't stop though. She just kept saying 'I can't let him have me', so I made a decision. If outright ordering her to stop wasn't going to work, I'd try the subtler approach of distracting her. "So you remember stuff now right, you wanna talk about it?"

I could feel that piss her off, her muscles tensing up with anger at the question before I backpedaled a little. "The good stuff I mean, you remember that, right? Family, friends, the ice cream in the park sorta stuff." Then after a short pause I add. "You guys do have ice cream in Asgard, right?"

"More like granita with cream." She pants out softly on the end of a chuckle before losing the fight with another wince. "You're trying to distract me."

"Yeah..." The 'duh' in my tone is so implied it's almost audible. "and I'm gonna keep trying." _Because I'm scared you're going to start bleeding from your ears or eyes next._ "We're gonna share. I already started, so tell me about you. I'm out here risking my life, tell me about the woman I'm doing that for."

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0931 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

I burrowed my head farther into his shoulder, and I could feel it make him nervous. Part of me is glad it does. I'm letting him help me, I'm trusting him with that, but I still remember how it felt when he shot my... _not my brother, I don't have one of those_ , when he shot Clint. When he attacked me. He deserves to be a little scared of me.

I also do it because the light is bothering my eyes. There's a hot stinging sensation settling behind my eyes, it almost feels like I brushed nettle. I'm really just stubbornly hopping it's only a migraine. "She's not important."

"Bullshit." That was predictable. I've heard it before. Being Nora, I was told all the time how incredible I was, that I didn't give up. How even though I wasn't one of S.H.I.E.L.D's best, I was still exceptional. I heard as Arnora too. How my gifts made me important, up until I really wanted something for myself. Then I was suddenly not important enough to be listened to, then I was suddenly a stupid, grieving girl.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0933 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

"I left that life behind." _There's just... tired... in that tone._ I brought up the subject hoping it would distract her, but also with a bit of selfish motivation. I'm genuinely curious about her life. I know way more then I'm going to let her find out about right now. Telling her HYDRA is still around, and I was one of their pet puppets is not going to keep her calm, and until we are out of the city, that's what I need.

But everything I know, it's all pretty terrible. It can't all be that way though, her whole life can't be a nightmare. There has to be something good there in her past. That girl in the elevator was sweet and innocent. That had to come from somewhere. I wanted to know about that girl, to know she was still in there. "I don't want to talk about it." _But it only seems to be making her upset._

_ah, god..._ "Fine." _…I hate lies..._ " We'll talk about me." _...of omission._

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0935 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

"My mom, she had me in prison." he starts, a pause filling the sentence halfway, as if he was looking for the details. That immediately makes me suspicious, but I lose it when he continues. "Pierce scrubbed the records, so I don't even know what her name was. I know she was a junkie though, and she was involved in a robbery/homicide." He must have felt my head move a little, and seen the pity.

"I asked about her a lot as a kid." He offers me a smile, but it does nothing to hide the clench of his jaw or the bitterness in his tone "He wanted me to know how much my life was better without her."

"I'd like to think she cleaned up though, maybe found god, or the good parts of herself again." There's another huff of a laugh, and this one with a genuine smile. "I mean, I turned out a pretty decent person, when the calls were mine. That's gotta come from something in me. Her or my real father, one of had to be someone good."

"Why not both?" His step slows a little at that, I guess because he really wasn't expecting me to participate.

"Oh, good, now it's a conversation." His smile gets even bigger, but his eyes stay aimed forward because he is carrying us over a small hill right now. "Yeah, they both could be. I never really got to find out."

He offers me a glance before he offers me an explanation, tacked on the tail of a sigh. "'Dads' sitting on top of an intelligence organization, and he never liked the idea of me tracking them down. He'd shut down the hunt before I even got started." I remember meeting Alexander Pierce, back before I knew there was two of them, and it fits. I remember him being pragmatic like that. Doing his best to keep personal level feelings out of it.

"I've also been living with a camera in my head for almost six years. I didn't really have the right to bring some strangers into that."

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0941 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

"It was France wasn't it?" she's quick. A combination I credit to her being smart and also having a good memory. "You said you almost lost your eye in France. It made no sense at the time, but...?"

"Yeah. I got knocked out in the crash, and when I woke up I had the worst case of dry eye and the words good morning Agent Pierce flashing across my retina. I've been living on their leash ever since."

There's silence, which I find curious, given the intensity of her expression. Inquisitive with a side of shame. "How'd you know it was a bomb?" she asks, leaving the section about me still having possession of a skull an amplified one.

"Other than them typing it out. Blowing up and receiving texts wasn't the only thing it could do. We're trained to handle pain, but there's not a lot you can do when they build a low voltage taser into your head."

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0946 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

He said six years. That means he had the implant already when he and his team came back from Dounreay, and I escorted them to see Councilman Pierce. That means every time he looked at me in that bunker, someone else could see me too. Could see us. Clint, me, Loki, Erik. Everything going on down there they knew about. 'They', some group without a name, some group that wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D. After all S.H.I.E.L.D would have no reason to sneak a spy into their own ranks. "Do they know, about me?

The pause is so much longer this time. "Yeah... They know all about you. But that's as much as I'm gonna say." He can see the 'you said you'd tell me everything' written on my eyes, but he barely lets it interrupt him. " _But that's as much as I'm gonna say_ right now because trust me, that conversation is going to be so much worse then your ready for right now."

That argument dies, and kills the urge I might have for any more. It vanishes before it even drew much of a breath. The city stole my attention, and it stole Duncan's too. I imagine its commanding everyone's right now, because I can still hear the echo of it. Loki's army just roared.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0952 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

I felt it after the roar, the sound bouncing off of skyscraper glass, and steel to makes its way to where we were. Something changed. I could still feel the discomfort in my head, but it was only the one I caused. The tight rubber band sensation in my head was gone, there was only the lingering memory of it, and that was fading quickly too. Something happened, something to do with the roar, and it was enough to make Loki stop looking for me.

I was so thrilled by that it had me terrified. I could feel it, a bad decision brushed against my conscious like a downy feather. He was going to do something horrible and I couldn't stop him.

Not even two minutes later, I knew what his decision was. Death swam in from space, more and more of those massive creatures and the army they carried flew in through the portal and blocked out the sun.

I learned why a minutes after that, when the empire state building spouted lightning. The lightning came from the tower, it didn't reach it. I missed the announcement about his arrival, but I didn't need it. Thor. He may not have had that relic when I still lived on Asgard, but I remember being Nora, and hearing about New Mexico. He used that weapon to stop the Destroyer from decimating that town, and no doubt the next and the next. They looked at him as 'hero' and an ally, or so he declared himself before he just left.

He was going to destroy everything, trying to save earth from this army. It didn't matter if he won. If he was here, he would break this down to its very root, lost in the 'rage of battle'. He wouldn't even need the support of the Einharjar to do it, not with that weapon in his hand. How stupid has Odin become to give a berserker like that such a tool of destruction. The only comfort I take is that I haven't seen a glimmer of golden armor, and that means there is NO army out there, carrying out his destruction for him.

Its crushed though by a different sort of knowledge. He may not have an army, but I have no doubt he is here with allies. If he was here it was no doubt for Loki, and I know S.H.I.E.L.D had the same goal. They would have sought him out once they recognized the bifrost opening on earth. _They are here._ Clint and Natasha, both of them agents of S.H.I.E.L.D, even though they might be fighting on opposing sides right now.

Steve most likely too, _that bastard_. Even if he wasn't on active duty before, he would be now. His desire to find his new path in life would be instantly eclipsed in the face of a conflict like this. Everyone always knew that. It broke her heart. _I hate him for that too._

These people should mean nothing to me. Traitors, and liars, and I hate that I love them. Nora isn't me, and I'm not Nora. That's what I want to believe, and there is so much truth in that statement. And so much self deception. Nora was ready to die, she was ready to bleed to death for a man that spent three years lying to her, and I would do it too. All I want to do right now is find my brother and keep him safe.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

0954 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

LOKI

* * *

They brought down a leviathan, or, 'it' brought down a leviathan. The beast, basic as it is, seems to have exceeded my expectations. I knew it would be powerful, and that's why I tried to remove it from the game. I thought I succeeded in that, but it looks like I underestimated its attachment to its world. Even as simple minded as the creature is, it recognizes the invasion as a threat to its territory.

I would have to deal with that problem before I resumed my search for Arnora. Now that invasion started I wanted her at my side. I felt distress and ger spark across the bond when I opened it, and I knew that meant she was awake, if not in a conflict of her own. The texts on this ritual said that it was possible to locate each other with the link, but I think the scale is too small. I could feel her, but the best I could determine was that she was simply nearby.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1015 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

RUMLOW

* * *

The army showing up should have been a huge inconvenience, but it actually helps. They provided better cover fire, as well as cover. No one was really batting an eye at a bunch of men in tactical gear anyways, but they all expected us to help them. The national guard's arrival cut down on us having to 'aggressively discourage' that, and let us get back to the real mission.

Though I do have to admit, watching the Soldier rip apart an alien with his bare hands was a thing of beauty.

I always knew that this bitch would be fun, but I imagined a different kind of enjoyment personally. Alien or not, she looks human enough to have the right parts. I mean, there has to be some reason so many of our best like her.

That thought takes a turn I wasn't expecting, and I turn my gaze to the soldier with a bit of a frown. He's using his flesh hand as leverage to pull his metal one out what's left of the alien's face. _I hope it is not a problem. Last time they let him near her... there's a reason they were moving her on that boat in the first place._

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1017 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

We were going to go the zoo. We did go to the zoo, but it wasn't animals that we found there. That found us there. Everything went wrong at the zoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:  
> This was originally going to be two chapters, but I condensed it into one. That's why two sections are the same POV, despite being right next to each other.


	100. Chapter 100

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1017 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

We came in from the north side, taking the section of 65th St. that went through the park, and passed under the Delacorte clock. Dancing animals, playing music while the world went to hell. That made me mad, as if it was audacity and not gears that made that machine continue on, the hippo and bear twirling to their tune without any acknowledgement to the city's suffering.

It turned out that letting the world make me mad would be very useful in the minutes that followed.

Duncan barely acknowledged the clock, being the saner of the two of us. I know he heard it though. It was surprisingly hard to miss in the silence between the explosions.

We made it as far as beyond the first gated pathway by the seabird house before we ran into trouble. Or maybe I should say trouble ran into us, when it's crashing chariot clipped one of the center turrets of the Arsenal building, and threw bricks and debris in our direction.

Duncan simply reacted. He either didn't know, or didn't care that an Asgardians body is able to withstand much more than a human's. Either way he just dropped down into a kneel and wrapped as much of his mass around me as he could to shield me from the falling chunks.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1017 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

Even though it didn't break or puncture anything, when the only thing shielding me is the padding of a hoodie, the feel of a brick's edge finding the gap between my ribs really hurt, the one that landed on the back of my calf didn't feel good either.

That didn't stop me from getting us moving again though. I dropped the arm that had been holding her legs out from under them. I'll need it to hold a weapon now, and at this point carrying her will only slow us down. She understands that too because she doesn't miss a step when we both start running.

The cover sucks but it's better than nothing. The closest thing that offers any security is the decorative archway over one of the entrances. It's not attached to anything, but on each side it has a pair of double pillars that are made of brick. It will at least make taking a shot at us difficult, if they take it.

"Hey, you okay?" She nods, but smirks too because that's sort of a dumb question. We almost just got ran over by an alien in a space glider after all. "Yeah." She bobs her head again a bit breathlessly from her pillar, since we can't both fit behind the same one. Then her words roll right onto "You're hurt."

_She's worried about me. That's cute, considering less than a hour ago she tried to murder me in a hole._ "I'm fine..." Even though I'm talking I'm keeping myself busy, my hands are doing a quick inventory of my weapons. "Nothing got broke or cut." While my eyes are scanning the area.

I'm hoping to god I'm wrong about this, but I really imagine I'm not. An alien army, is still an army. And there may be a massive cultural rift between whatever those things are, and earth. But army implies unit, and units imply groups. Groups imply whoever piloted that thing might have buddies that are going to show up soon.

"You got your knife still?" She nods way too hard, her own eyes picking up on the movement in mine and looking around. Untrained as she may have been kept, you can't hang out with people like us and not pick up on a few things. "Good. Here." She fumbles the catch a little, but palms the sheathed blade easily enough.

Ideally I don't want her to have to use them at all, but I'd much rather she have the option. That also leaves me with two knifes of my own, and two guns. I'm keeping those. Not because I don't trust her with them, but I know firearms wasn't something they taught her much of, so that makes me the better shot, and my ammo supply is limited.

Now that only leaves us with two more problems. There's not a convenient door within range we can take cover in, and a fucking alien just landed on the roof behind us!

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1018 HOURS

SANCTUARY

CHITAURI SPACE

* * *

THE OTHER

* * *

I saw her. The setting and her attire have changed, but I recognize the woman's face I can see through the Chitauri's neural link.

I saw her kneeling at the Asgardians feet, sobbing, and strike at him. The fact that he did return that blow, and the expression on his face told me all I needed to know. She matters to him, whoever she was. I have no trust in this would be king's honor. A man who wishes for a kingdom ultimately wishes for power, and the scepter is a great source of it.

A man is creative and greedy as he would try to keep it, but perhaps his desire for her will make his cooperation more certain.

If they can not deliver her, perhaps the master would accept my suggestion and send Nebula. She would enjoy breaking the Asgardians whore. It would be a fitting reward for his arrogance and disrespect toward her.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1018 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

"STAY!...STAY!" There's a gap in there that may have been a third word, but it got drowned out by the sound of brick exploding behind my head, and the sight of the same happening behind his. I didn't plan to run, but I'm not offended by his order because feeling brick dust sprinkle down on my shoulder from the gap between the pillars is really disconcerting.

I do take comfort in the fact I can see him working on a solution. They're still firing at us, but he's counting the seconds between the shots. I imagine he's smart enough to know an energy weapon has a lot more ammo than a traditional gun, but it still takes time to fire the next blast.

"5th and 59th!" He shouts over the report of the blast, before he twists around and fires a few rounds up at our enemy on the roof behind us.

_5th and 59th? That's a street?_ His window closes and he ducks back behind the very relative safety of the pillars, swearing in frustration, before growling out the words again. And then I get it. That's not a street, there's a subway entrance there.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1019 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

_Oh, she's 'so thrilled' about that idea._ That's at least 5 blocks away from us, with questionable coverage. But we have aliens with ray guns behind us, these pillars are dying fast, and I can't provide cover fire across the entire sky! Not to mention we're right next to a zoo that I know has bears and snow leopards! Two things I also really don't want to fight!

"I can..." _Ah mother fucker,_ that blast made debris clip my ear! "...control a subway tunnel, not a sky! We gotta move!"

She doesn't like the idea, but I can see her agree. Just like I can still see the fear. We're about to abandon our cover and expose ourselves to a force with better fire power. She's not stupid, and not dumb enough to pretend she's too brave for fear, but she's ready. There's this look in her eye, this familiar acceptance of violently inevitability. I don't know where the hell that's coming from, but I'm gonna take it.

"5th & 59th..." I remind her as I quickly put a fresh clip in the gun for this, pocketing the partial one for later. "...stay low, hug the trees, and move fast." And here is where I see the realization creep in. "You hit that subway, don't stop, I'll catch up with you." And the worry.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1019 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

He just told me to leave him behind! I knew that he was going to provide the cover fire, but there's something else in that sentence, and it sounds too much like sacrifice. "Alex..."

I've been using the name, Duncan, for him. Both in thoughts and in words because it was the one I knew him by longest. I know his real name though, not the alias belonging to an assignment. He risked his life to give me his real name, and he's about to risk his life again. The least I can do is start using it.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1020 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

_Alex..._ God damn it, why'd she have to say my name like that,say it all?! I liked it better when she said my name with hate, not like she can see the sword coming down. "No. Later, save that for later."

Though I'm not gonna lie, I like that she cares. That despite every horrible thing I was forced to do to her, she still thinks my life is worth worrying about. "I'll keep you safe, I'll keep my word. You gotta trust me, okay?"

I get another sharp nod to that, her lips trying their best at a quick smile as she changes her grip on those knives, and shifts into a better position to sprint when I start counting down from five.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1020 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

I heard two shots, and then in the middle of the third one I heard a screeched roar. He hit it. I was happy about that enough to laugh but I was also busy making my feet hit the pavement as fast as I could.

It wasn't fast enough. I realized that half a second late too late as the remains of a vendor cart came into view. It was mixed in with the wreckage of half an alien craft, and the limping shape of said alien with his weapon in his hand!

I managed to clear the pathway and the set of park benches to find cover behind another pillar before it took a shot at me, but Alex was three seconds behind me, and he was only able to reach the cover of a cement eagle!

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1020 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

"Go, keep going!" She can see me. All panic and concern in her eyes at the sight of me curling in to avoid the debris. So much for promises. It's not enough cover, we both know it. The head of the eagle cracking makes that even more clear.

I'm screwed, but she's got a good chance now. Where she is, she has a corridor of pillars surrounding her, and if she just keeps running like hell, they should have a really hard time getting a shot through those!

I just need to give her an opening, and 'he' give me an opportunity to do it. He only has one firearm by the looks of it. Some sort of spear gun, and when he fires at her pillar I give him a few rounds of my own. It doesn't stop his shot, but it throws it off. The blast killing a trash can and not her.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1021 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

I lived among the Northmen, the Vikings. I was a goddess, a holy woman, a healer to them. I was also a woman of the North. I didn't leave on the raids, or seek out the fights, but that didn't mean I never learned how. I knew the weight of a knife in my hand, and axe, and a shield.

The blast just took out a trash can, and the round metal cover of it, is pinwheeling to a stop within my grasp. It takes me three deep breathes before I make myself lean out to snatch it up, grateful and offended that the alien didn't bother to take the opportunity. One of the three legs is quickly wrapped in my hand while the second one is gripped just as tightly in the curve of my arms.

It's not a shield worthy of a shield wall, it barely covers the fore arm holding it, but it's something I know how to wield. It's not the only thing I know how to wield. I'm surrounded by bushes.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1021 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

The damn thing roared, but that's not what caught my attention. It was the chunk of what looked like a broken park bench recoiling off its helmet. _Did she just throw a board at an ALIEN! What the hell is she doing?!_

_Jesus christ, this woman sucks at running away!_ I'm trying to draw its fire so she can run the hell away. Then I realize something, she is doing the same thing. Firing another shot at it makes it turn its attention back to me, and this time she throughs at a piece of metal at it! _Like were playing a fucked up game of monkey in the middle!_

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1022 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

That caught its attention, but those consequences turned out worse than I anticipated. Its next shot took out most of my pillar, making me think it might have turned up the power of its blaster. It barely gives me time to shake my senses back in place and take cover behind another pillar. It's chasing me into arm's reach and starting its attack.

That's okay, because that's what I wanted. These things may be unfamiliar, but they're bipedal creatures, and I know how to fight those.

It tries to swing at me, the blade at the end of it coming uncomfortably close to my face as I duck and dodge, then counter attack by stepping in and shield bashing it on the left side of its head. I don't stop there, and immediately force my swing to change direction. Punching it in the helmet compacted my knuckles but I let the momentum slide my fist off its face before I go back for another shield blow.

That one doesn't succeed though because it catches my arm, and plants its large foot into my stomach, kicking me back in a sloppy roll across the landscaping.

The spears is the next thing to touch the ground, half an inch inside the space my head rolled away from when I dodged, with a smile. I'm pulling a page from the black widow's book. This bipedal, and she knows how to fight those better than I do. It's tall, but it had to lean down to try and stab me in the face, and that brought its neck in reach of my legs.

Wrapping my thighs around its throat, I let it try to haul my weight back up, before I shift all of mine to the side and throw it off its center of gravity, taking both of us in the roll.

It knocked the wind out of me a little, the combining force of its weight and the impact with the ground. That didn't stop me from grabbing the ornamental ridge of its helmet and yanking its head to the side. It didn't stop me from stabbing it in the throat several times either with serrated knife Alex gave me, and shoving a piece of infused wood inside.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1023 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

I was equal parts furious and afraid when she started fighting that thing. I couldn't get a clean shot to help her, and she wasn't even supposed to put herself in danger for me in the first place!

Then it switched to just whistle worthy levels of impressed.

She rolled off that thing like it was nothing, her skin and her clothes a little worse for wear with a few dirt smears and scrapes, and kicked its grasping hand back to the dirt, where it started to weave into the dirt! The thing was snarling and wheezing in frightened rage as the branch in its neck started sprouting leaves, and what looked like bloody roots forced their way out of its chest!

She just planted a tree in the damn thing! Holy shit! She's amazing!

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1023 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

"Are you okay?" I know that look, and the mindset that always went with it. He was just standing there with wide eyes that barely blinked, only seeming half aware of my approach or the knotted piece of wood I picked up along the way.

The look of full awareness didn't kick back in until I spoke, and then he just looked amusingly confused. "Yeah I'm fine. I should be asking you that."

"Are you sure?" The look of nervousness appears next, but not because of my sentence. I lifted my hand up, and his feet carried him back a step. "Yeah, I'm sure."

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1023 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEXANDER

* * *

I wasn't trying to, it was just animal level self preservation that made me back away. It recognizes her touch as something dangerous, a bit like an animal would probably recognize the danger of a poisonous frog. But she's not a frog, she's the lady who just fought an alien to keep me safe, and I just made her look sad.

"It's okay. " She makes that smile pull higher at the corners, as if that makes it hurt less. "I can shut it off. I won't hurt you. I can heal you if you're hurt."

_She can heal me? Of course she can. She was doing that to Barton in the woods._ I want it, hell we both know that. My face is an open book, and it's got that printed on the title page, I want that so bad. But I remember her energies being tapped by two, and as much as I want her to fix me, it's better that we don't waste any of it while we still might have to fight.

There's also the fact that I can see the flash coming half a second too late to start moving us out of the way. Or, me, really, when blast two completely skips her and almost separates my leg from the rest of my body! _REALLY?!_

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1024 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK

W 72ND ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

The first shot is from the pathway roof. I heard the alien land right before the glow of the blast illuminated Alex's hoodie and drilled into his collarbone. The second one came from the ground, and it tore up his leg from the knee down!

I screamed his name just like a did Clint's in the woods, and tried to catch him. His leg was ruined! It couldn't hold his weight, and his hands pulled me down with him is he fell. Unlike in the forest I didn't have the same options. There was no sniper far enough away for me to drag him to safety and try to heal him. All I could do was stop the worst of the bleeding of before their presence demanded my attention.

There was four, five, seven aliens around me as I rose back to my feet and stood on stone pavers.

There's trees and bushes all around me, and animals. But the only things in the circle around me is the branch in my hand and Alex. If he doesn't bleed out first, he will certainly die if I try to borrow some of his energy. I don't want him to die.

So I choose the branch, and make it a cudgel of thorns.


	101. Chapter 101

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ONE

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1026 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK ZOO

64TH ST AND 5TH AVE

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEX

* * *

These fuckers almost shot my leg off, and I'm laying here, trying to make a tourniquet with my hoodie string! It's bleeding a lot less than I thought it would, but I figure thats gotta be from the sensation her hand left before she stood.

She got my thanks for that, but I'm still pissed, because I'm pretty sure this leg is a lost cause. Its hanging on by muscle strings and tendons after all, and the only good luck I have besides her is that it missed the artery. Theres still plenty of smaller vessels in a leg though.

 _She's doing great. S_ he fighting the aliens off to keep them from tearing apart more of me. She hasn't let them touch me once during that. But we're gonna lose.

She's taken down most of the first that appeared, but more have shown up. There not even interested in me, I don't know if she's noticed that. Their attacks are fixated on her. She's wielding a melee weapon. If they wanted they could have shot me by now. But they're too busy using staffs that can shoot energy as just staffs. They want her, and the want her alive.

I should find some comfort in that, but I already listened to her scream as they snapped part of her arm. Whoever gave these things their orders, I really doubt it was Loki. He may be crazy, but he's obsessed too, and he wouldn't tell them to hurt her like this. He has dissension in his ranks, and its gonna beat the shit out of her.

One of them thrusts his spear at her, and she manages to spin around it, hitting the owner in the nose area with the base of her club, sending the alien stumbling back. Another one just takes its place in the line though.

It swings the butt of its own weapon at her in retribution. She successfully ducks under it though and spins around as she her weapon. She hits that prick in the shin, embedding spikes in its leg even as she uses the momentum to rip his foot out from under him.

Her own momentum doesn't stop. As that one falls another one aims its spear at her. She knocks the point down though, and away from her, before she twists her aim and clocks that one in the face too with the end of her spiked club.

He falls, and the first one rises, but her focus isn't on either of them. Letting the momentum carry the club she brings the top of it up over head down onto the one she tripped, caving into the back of its head with a massive dent in its helmet.

That makes the one approaching back up a little and gives her time to wiggle those spikes out, but not for long. It moves in, with two of its spear buddies backing it. That makes her cautious, but spearman #1 is brave. It tries to stab her, but she swings down under the spear and blocks it. Then when he retreats for another lunge, she follows, and drives that club right into its stomach. When it bends in pain, she brings it down on his skull too before he can get back up. The blood I see running down her side says her block wasn't perfect.

Again they back up a little, making it two on her right and one on her left. They either aren't used to fierce women, or they grossly underestimated the power of blunt weaponry. For good measure she brings her heel down on his head, just to be sure.

That makes the one on the left move back in. His spear swinging down as he goes in for the thrust, while the other two assholes move in for their opportunity.

She blocks again from the bottom, lifting it up as he pulls back to lunge once more. She doesn't hit him with the club first though. The aliens twists away a little, and she takes advantage of the angle. Her foot drives into the back of its knee, jerking the thing at the wrong angle and brings it down. Grabbing the club in two hands as it falls she makes a thrust of her own. Hitting the creature with it like a bar to the back she knocks it the rest of the way off balance before she moves both hands to the base of the club and starts to swing it over head again to cave in another skull.

And then everything goes wrong.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1027 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK ZOO

64TH ST AND 5TH AVE

* * *

 

AR(NORA)

* * *

_I couldn't see!_ My vision blinked out, and my eyes burned! My whole face burned! Heat and the sting like hot coals just hit me, right before one of my enemies did.

My grip on the club faltered as one hand released it, instinct automatically bringing it around to cover my face from a cause that wasn't really present, and that shifted all its weight into the opposite hand. It almost slide free before I tightened my grip on it.

Not that it mattered as I was barely finished altering my hold on it, when I feel the skin slice open across my ribs.

The club fell again a little from that, but I let the downward swing guide it, and even though I could barely see, I felt the head of it hit that beast in the gut. I knew it didn't knock it down though, so I reverse the swing and take out its leg too. Then letting the momentum carry the club in a loop, I took out its face, knocking the helmet clean off.

I wanted to keep going, the creature was still alive, and there was nothing between me and its head now. But I felt my hands split open with cuts, and my entire left side felt like it hit a wall. The shock of it made me drop to my knees, and drop the weapon. The slickness of my own blood making it too hard to hold. The foot that kicked it away made sure I didn't get it back, before it kicked me in the face too, knocking me on my back.

It paid for that when I sunk my knife into its ankle. That made me feel better, but it terrified me too.

It confirmed something I suspected. The knife I stabbed it with was coated in my blood, and it did nothing! I don't know what these creatures are, I don't know their flesh, or their DNA. I can't affect things I don't know! My magick won't work on them! I don't have enough time to figure them out, not in a fight, and they're not letting me reach the trees or grass.

The horse kicks me again, or maybes it's a moose. This one's foot felt much bigger as it drove into my stomach. The pain did me a small favor though, as it made me roll more than an actual choice, and it spared me the end of a spear. The impact pain in my back didn't help though, and it was quickly joined by pain that was actually mine, and the spear in my shoulder!

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1028 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK ZOO

64TH ST AND 5TH AVE

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEX

* * *

_NORA!_ Shit, shit she's gonna get killed. She screams as it rips the blade out of her, the spear and the barrel coated with so much of her blood it runs like a thin stream before it turns into fat drips.

They don't stop there though. She tries to roll away, and get back to her feet, but they've got her surrounded now, the four that are left. One of them drives its foot down on top of her knee. It doesn't break it, but I can still hear it pop as it hits the ground hard, drawing another screamed snarl out of her.

She tries to cut the bastard for it but her arm gets swiped off its path, and she get the butt of one of their guns against the side of her skull.

They're gonna beat her to death by accident, if they don't just change their mind and shoot her. But here I am, with two good hands, that I haven't been using to defend her because I'm trying to save my own life.

I couldn't tie the tourniquet the string snapped at one point, _cheap ass russian shit!_ and wasn't long enough, so I had to hold the slippery cord with both hands. But if she dies I'm gonna die anyways, so fuck it. I made one of their heads explode.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1028 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK ZOO

64TH ST AND 5TH AVE

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

They had me on the ground, crawling because they refused to let me climb back to my feet, and retreating to a place without escape. I knew the glass to the seal pen was behind me, but it was the only direction I could move!

Another one tries to stab me in the leg as I hear Duncan's gun go off, before I kick his spear out of the way and do the same to his leg, hoping to bring something in range I can cut, but another one beats me to it.

His weapon comes down into my shoulder, making my whole arm and muscles go numb from the blow, until it roars back to life like fire from the pain.

I was against the first wall of the seal pen that separated the zookeepers walkway from the central garden, and now some of my arm is through the glass.

I don't have time to think about though, because my weight breaks the rest of the cracks into pieces, and I can feel gravity pulling me down into the few feet of drop of the walkway.

I try to catch myself, my arm swinging out before thought could catch up, and now my arm and hand also had glass embedded in it. I didn't really have time to care about that though, because I also had an alien hand wrapping around my throat.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1029 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK ZOO

64TH ST AND 5TH AVE

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEX

* * *

I blew off one of their heads, and I think I hit another one in the spine given his furious thrashing from the waist up, but they shot me in the side and the shoulder again, before they kicked me down and pressed the barrel of one of their weapons to my head.

They haven't pulled the trigger yet, because they seem to be sadistic. I don't know if these things can smile, but seeing the gunman flick his head toward her and back again made it pretty clear. They want me to watch before they kill me.

I can see her, she's being held by an alien as it stands in the zookeepers walkway of the seal pond. she's choking under its grip, but I can see thinking too. She has one of her legs wrapped around its arm to take the weight of her body off her neck, and to make it hard for her to hold her weight like that. With the other leg, she is just kicking the shit out of the maskless bastard's face!

That works well right up until it sinks its teeth into her calf. That thing has a face like a pitbull fucked a goat. Its nothing but jaw and blunt teeth. And it's got her screaming.

Turns out that's not its goal though. It must have some understanding of how her body works, because right after she starts screaming it slams her down into the water of the seal tank. It's trying to drown her!

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1030 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK ZOO

64TH ST AND 5TH AVE

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

_No! No, no, no!_ I remember this! I remember the terrible crushing pain and panic as my lungs started screaming for air. 'They' did this to me before too, when 'they' wanted to see if 'my people' really needed oxygen to survive.

I lost some air before I forced the scream to stop. The time between the feel of the water against the back of my head, and the liquid covering my nose wasn't long enough for me to keep it all, but I refused to drown that easily.

It was determined though. Its teeth sunk farther in and ground into the bone, making it very hard to hold back the scream.

I wasn't alone in this fight anymore though. It threw me into a sea lion tank. I may not be able to influence them like I can with dogs, even if I had the time, but I don't have to. This is a predator in their environment, and they know what to do with those.

I can see them, feel them. Their bodies swimming so close they brush mine too as they attack , throwing themselves at the creature. They're slamming their mass into it, biting it, and helping me.

It can't fend them off effectively while if it's busy holding me under the water and biting my leg. It only has two hands.

The number of its hands and the aid of the sea lions doesn't matter though. Not when I feel my tibia break and the shattered pieces of my fibia carve lines through my muscles. Not when I feel at least half a dozen ribs on my back crack, the agony and the abruptness of it makes it impossible to really count. Not when the rest of the pain that follows. _It's like this? This is how I die?_

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1030 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK ZOO

64TH ST AND 5TH AVE

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEX

* * *

The sound of her scream was distorted as it rose out of the water through a column of bubbles, and then it was followed by nothing. Not even the sound of water splashing as she struggled.

That was terrifying. But not as terrifying as the sight of a grenade hitting the alien with his gun on me!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:
> 
> If anyone was confused, the pains Ar(nora) feels from Loki are these:  
> Hawkeye arrowing Loki in the face.  
> Loki crashing through the glass fence and rolling on left side.  
> Hulk hitting Loki in the stomach or torso and throwing him into the building.  
> Loki's back hitting the wall and him falling to glass covered floor on his hands.  
> And of course HULK SMASH!


	102. Chapter 102

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWO

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1031 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK ZOO

64TH ST AND 5TH AVE

* * *

RUMLOW

* * *

As far as aliens go, these things are bullshit. Sure they may have space gliders and energy weapons, but if your 'superior technology' can't manage bullet proof, it's about as superior as a bag of flaming shit.

_LUCKY ME!_ I'm having way too much fun perforating a pack of E.T's with a Steyr SPP, and well, when I walked on the scene and saw the boss' son I couldn't resist taking the grenade launcher we had, and starting the party with a bang.

After it exploded, the only identifiable chunk of the one I shot at was part of its pelvis, and the liquified flesh leaking out of its dented helmet. As for the other two circling Junior, the shrapnel of their buddy that didn't kill them, was quickly fixed by a hail of bullets. Jack may be a quiet motherfucker, but this is a unique opportunity and I know he's having fun out here too.

They're training is crap, at least as far as tactical awareness. I get the feeling these things count too much on numbers and air superiority, because they didn't even notice us until I blew one of them up. That let us get in close. It let the soldier get in close too, and he's making quick work of the two by the pool.

One tries to stab the Soldier, with a knife that looks a lot like one of our's wrapped in its fat fingers. That goes south when he blocks the swing with his left arm, the metal hand digging into the alien's forearm after it stops the momentum. His other hand quickly wraps around the creature's wrist and wrenching the limp down he brings his leg up to drive a vicious kick into the back of its torso.

Its buddy at the pool joins the fray then, realizing something is wrong. It seems to be weaponless because its hands were occupied with something else, but that doesn't stop it from attempting a swing of its own. This time the Soldier's fleshy arm blocks the blow, with just as much ease. Much like before he grabs the creature's wrist, but lets his metal arm wrenches its elbow out of place by yanking it sideways. The damn thing almost drops to its knees yowling pathetically in pain!

The first one is back on its feet, but not for very long when it tastes a metal uppercut to the bottom of its jaw. I can hear the hand sinking it the damn thing's soft under chin before he closes those fingers around its jawbone and tears it right off!

Then the Soldier just twists around, and aiming his fist at the whimpering alien that's trying to stand all the way back up, he cuts its rise short with a right handed punch to the back of its head. The things feet go airborne as it face plants into the concrete! That's not even taking into account the way its limbs thrash as he starts bringing his metal arm down on its ribcage like some sort of biblical Samson, using the jawbone like a hammer! _Oh yeah, he's got this._

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1032 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK ZOO

64TH ST AND 5TH AVE

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEX

* * *

"Hey boss, how's it going?" I never wanted to get that close to Rumlow's mouth, but I kinda want to remove his tongue now just to shut him up.

He swaggered over to the ruins of a food cart first. Examining the pretzels on the ground for a clean one, and snatched up a diet coke before he came over here, and dropped down into a crouch in front of me. "Ya hungry?"

I can practically feel the scrape of Rollin's barrel against my scalp as I lay there quietly and endure this. I'm short a good leg, I've been shot several times, and I got three STRIKE Agents with their guns inches from my face. Even if I was intact, I wouldn't be able to deal with all of them before one of them pulled the trigger.

"No?" He asks again, shaking the pretzel in my face like I'm a dog. "Its missing most of its salt, I know, but it's almost asphalt free. Ya sure?"

"I'm on a diet." That gets a laugh out of him before he shifts from a crouch into a more comfortable position. Sitting indian style on the ground in front of me as he twists open his coke and takes a swig.

"Yeah..." He spares a glance and a smirk at my leg as he recaps the bottle and sets it at his side. "...I can see the weight just falling off ya. You want us to do something 'bout that?"

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1033 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK ZOO

64TH ST AND 5TH AVE

* * *

RUMLOW

* * *

There's confusion behind the pain and the pissed. "What?" I only ask the question for show. "You were expecting an execution?"

The answer's pretty obvious. HYDRA's not a take prisoners kinda organization. Prisoners can talk after all, and we're not supposed to exist anymore. Can't let that talk happen. But, doesn't mean we never do, and everyone knows that's worse.

"Oh, no. We're not gonna kill ya. I mean we could, we definitely got permission. But death is so final, right? You're done when it's done. I'm feeling generous, and you don't get to be done yet. I'm bringing you back to daddy dearest. Maybe he'll let me make a suggestion or two, what you think?"

He huffs a little at that, sidestepping my attempt at goading a fight out of him. "I think I liked you better that time I broke your jaw."

Even half amputated the dude's a fucken prick. "Yeah." _I'm gonna enjoy this so much._ "Get them zip ties and a road flare." We'll see if he keeps the smirk during that. While they're getting him ready I should probably check on the woman, it's been kinda quiet behind us.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1033 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK ZOO

64TH ST AND 5TH AVE

* * *

WINTER SOLDIER

* * *

The hostiles were dispatched, now it was time to retrieve the target. She was sinking beneath a layer of dead seals.

One of the animals is laying on the fake rock pathway, its chest heaving as it takes its lasts breath before the sound stutters, the ribs expanding one last time before they collapse into stillness. It never even got its tail out of the water, that's how she killed it. _What?_

The other seals are just masses of floating flesh, and their bodies move easily out of the way of my arms, a nudge sending them bopping toward the other walls of the tank so I can reach her.

The heel of her left foot hooked the rim of the glass wall and didn't sink with the rest of her, so I dip my right hand into the water and grabbed her leg. My hand slid over her thigh before it secured its place behind her knee, the skin itching on contact with her's for a moment before the sensation vanished as I pull her higher. Then my metal one found its place between her shoulder blades.

She remained limp in my arms, even after her nose and mouth broke the surface of the water. That didn't change as I shifted her weight closer to my chest and stepped out of the sunken pathway, or when I laid her carefully on the cement.

She was under the water too long, and hasn't resumed breathing on her own. _Deliver alive and unharmed._ So my hands shift behind my head, and the fingers unlock the clasps of my mask. Her skin is clammy as I check her pulse and brush her cheek while I pinch her nose. Her lips though are softer than I remember under mine?

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1034 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK ZOO

64TH ST AND 5TH AVE

* * *

RUMLOW

* * *

Jack and his men got Junior, I know this from experience, and the sound of him screaming as the scent of burning flesh fills the air. I'm content to let him handle that problem because I got one of my own.

The sight of him performing chest compressions was pretty self explanatory, and is met with a bit of approval. He had the sense to use his flesh hand for most of that effort, if he used the strength of the metal one he might have crushed her chest cavity like a tin can.

What does have me concerned though is the way his maskless face is damp, and droplets of water are clinging to his stubble as she weakly hacks up water. _The bastard went and kissed her!_ He even has his hand on her back as he holds her on her side to help the water drain from her lungs.

"Солдат." I'm not very fluent in Russian, I know enough to understand it, and I got the basic checklist of commands down. If they let you take the Soldier out, your required to know those. "She's breathing." "Отбой, мы примем его отсюда."

I also know what confusion looks like, and semi consciousness. For good measure I motion Jack over here just in case.

The Soldier had been looking at her, with this unblinking intensity as she wheezed between gasps, and then when I said 'Soldier' that look broke into rapid blinking before he followed my orders and moved back. That's where the semi consciousness showed, from her, in the form of weakly grasping fingers. _Aww she's missing his absence how cute. Looks like we're back to the acting for a little while._

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1035 HOURS

CENTRAL PARK ZOO

64TH ST AND 5TH AVE

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEX

* * *

I'd like to say I'm happy when Rollins walked away from me, and I am. I'm also pissed and concerned as hell though because I'm still under the barrel of two STRIKE Agents, with a stump cooked to jerky by a road flare, and he's walking toward the two other mass murders that are surrounding her.

They woke the Asset for this mission. That surprises me just as much as it doesn't. I knew she was important, but they woke up the Soldier for her. Her, not some intergalactic terrorist prince, or the tesseract! Her.

They're gonna kill her. HYDRA has some pretty basic policies about gifted individuals. Convert or kill. You either help, or what they learn from your corpse does. She's not going to submit, they couldn't make her do it the first time, so they're going to kill her. _They're using him against her._

"Agent Elaine?" I can hear Rumlow talking to her, from where he has put himself between our line of sights. He doesn't want her to catch a glimpse of the fact they barbequed my leg. "I'm with S.H.I.E.L.D, were going to take you somewhere safe."

That line of horse shit makes me want to gag as much as it makes me want to speak but I skip both of those. I'll get shot in the head before I even get a full word out, and that pretty much ends the game. Rumlow's right when he says it's final, but as long as I'm alive there's always the chance to change things.

"This..." His voice keeps talking, as his hand holds itself out toward Rollins. He has a syringe of something in his hand, that he's giving to Rumlow. "will make you feel better."

I don't need to know what it is to know that's a lie. I don't even need to see his smirk either. She knows it too I think. I don't know if its mistrust because she recognizes Rumlow's voice, or just a powerful aversion to needles and their contents, but I can see her struggle to lift her hand and breath out the word no before she appears to gag on more blood.

_Shit, is she bleeding internally?_ The urge to say something almost wins out over self preservation a second before the teams change.

Rumlow suddenly lets out a swearing his and jerks his hand away from her skin like it stung, right before A metal hand wraps around his own. The Soldier is bending his arm backwards,and uses it to stab Rollins in the leg with the needle! It caught Rollins of guard, but only for half a second. Then he made the mistake of swinging on the Soldier.

The Asset stepped out of the way, and caught Rollins arm is it over extended the swing, before he brought a metal fist into the side of Jack's face!

When Rumlow tried to rise from his crouch to help, he only got is far is the feel of a metal elbow grazing the air in front of his nose. He dodged the blow that would have taken his face off is the Soldier spun around, but it threw off his balance, and gave the Soldier a weapon.

While Rumlow fell the Soldier tore his taser rod out of Brock's holster, and following him down, he shoved it between his teeth!

Watching Rumlow foam at the mouth in a electric seizure about made my day, but after the the Soldier took out the last two Strike agents dumb enough to engage him, he pulled the taser from Rumlows mouth and started walking toward me. _Oh fuck man come on!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FOR THE READERS:  
> солдат. отбой, мы примем его отсюда.  
> TRANSLATES INTO  
> Soldier. Stand down, we will take it from here.  
> SOUND LIKE  
> Soldat . Otboy , my primem yego otsyuda.
> 
> Also for those who look at the Photobucket, yes, there is a Stucky picture, a lot of good inspiration comes out of that, I just substitute in Nora.


	103. Chapter 103

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THREE

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1057 HOURS

BELVEDERE CASTLE, CENTRAL PARK

79TH ST

* * *

WINTER SOLDIER

* * *

Target # 1 mission requirements: Deliver alive and unharmed, remove all interference.

Her leg was broken. She had multiple stab wounds, a large bite wound which showed evidence of substantial blood loss, and the wet wheeze on the end of each breath suggested broken ribs if not a punctured lung.

The contents of the syringe would reduce her to a weak and manageable state, and cause her immense pain. _I knew that, I know that?_ It made her muscles cramp up, it made it very hard for her to breath. It would kill her if it entered her bloodstream. So I removed the interference.

My commander and the three others went down quickly, and so did target #3. He was already incapacitated, I simply rendered him unconscious.

The woman had fainted as well, if she even achieved full consciousness after she started breathing again. That was alright, because if she was unconscious she wouldn't be aware of her pain. The morphine pen I found in one of the STRIKE teams pockets as I collected ammo clips would also help.

She made a small sound as it broke her skin, but stilled again when my fingertips touched her skin while I checked her pulse.

I needed to take her somewhere safe. A place I could defend until her condition stabilized. I choose the castle in the park.

I'd have to carry her, and him. That concerned me a little. In her condition no matter how I carried her it would cause her some pain, but the morphine should cover most of that, and the mission required I move quickly. She ended up over my back in a fireman's carry, her arm with the least injuries is in my hand to keep her from sliding off, and her unbroken leg is held by the inside of my forearm .

As for him I just wrapped my metal arm around his waist, and let the machine bare the weight.

I had to break the door lock to get inside, but that was alright because there was plenty of heavy objects I could brace it with, and the entrance was small, allowing only a single intruder through it at a time.

I let the man fall to the floor as soon as we were inside, but as for her I took the time to carefully lay her on the round green table. She was more important to me then he was.

I left her just long enough to barricade the broken door. I ripped one of the desks off the wall it was bolted to, and lining up the draws on the end with the grooves in the large tiles, I muscle the other end against the top of the door. The wood broke a little at the edges as it was forced inside the round stone doorframe.

Then I turned my attention back to her, and her leg. It was definitely broken, perhaps in multiple places. I would have to splint it, but that wasn't a problem, because we were surrounded by plenty of stools.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1058 HOURS

BELVEDERE CASTLE, CENTRAL PARK

79TH ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEX

* * *

I've been shot, tased, and burned, and then this inconsiderate asshole dropped me on my bad leg like a sack of potatoes. I'm surprised I didn't yell at that, but even my instincts were smart enough to know better. He wasn't paying attention to me, and that was the best situation I could be in right now.

We were in some sort of building, an old building. Heavy stone walls, clear stain glass windows in iron window frames. And lots of green wooden furniture. Maybe a small museum or an educational center. Or a really big cage, I amend when I notice the damn desk he shoved in the doorframe. Might as well be a damn tree for all that I could move it, even if if I wasn't halfway through a meat grinder.

I was sitting there, being quite like a rabbit in a push, looking for an option that didn't involve ending up eaten by a wolf, but that didn't mean I wasn't keenly aware of every muscle he moved.

He snapped apart a stool like it was a twig and then ripped some cords right off the wall. Then the next things his hands created was the sound of scraping bones and her scream.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1059 HOURS

BELVEDERE CASTLE, CENTRAL PARK

79TH ST

* * *

WINTER SOLDIER

* * *

I was wrong about it being broken in multiple places despite the massive amount of bruising I saw. I only felt one distortion under her skin as I carefully removed the boot. The footwear actually did her some good it seems, as the bone didn't break the skin. It meant I only had to set one fracture.

Her leg kicked when I realized it, but I knew it would and already had my hand on her thigh to hold it in place. I set the stool legs on either side in preparation, and had the electric cord laid out too which made the process much quicker despite the thickness of the cord, or the fact I was doing this without help.

The bite wound on her other leg prevented her from kicking me before the attempt even got far. Being woke like that seemed to have caught her by surprise, but the pain reminded her of its existence almost immediately, particularly in her ribs.

After I finished with her legs and let go she tried to roll over, the sound of her breathing making it very clear why. I would have let her if it wasn't for the fact she seemed unaware that she was on a table.

Before she can roll off the table I rest one of my knees on the bench attached to it and lean over letting my hand grasp the her shoulder to roll her back to safety.

She's frightened and in and pain, so her attempt to hit me is understandable, but her sudden surrender after I catch her hand in mine is not.

Her eyes are still still pretty. They are open, slightly. She must have been struck in the face because the lids seems swollen, and I can see red in the whites of her eyes, alongside the green as she looks at me.

The red leaves her eyes shortly after that, in the form of pink tears, but that injury isn't my primary concern. Its her consciousness. I know she can heal, and I know she does it easier when she sleeps. When she has someone to help her heal, and she isn't trying to gasp out words. " j..., ja..., ...eh..."

Sliding my hand from up from her wrist I let my fingers curl into the flesh of her palm as I move both of them. They find their place against the wood of the table by her head, because the position also lets my wrist touch her cheek. The contact is important, she needs to touch someone before can do heal. She doesn't even seem to notice my other hand until the needle touches her skin.

Morphine wasn't the only injection pen the STRIKE Agent had on him, there was a tranquilizer too. "Shh, you need to rest."

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1100 HOURS

BELVEDERE CASTLE, CENTRAL PARK

79TH ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

There was no life flashing before my eyes, I didn't think there would be, there never was before, and I always thought that was crap anyways. But this was better. I wasn't seeing my life as I died, I was seeing a ghost.

I remember drowning, and then the feel of someone's skin against my lips right before I started breathing again. I remember being barely able to see let alone sit up, and the sound of someone speaking. I remember the voice being familiar even though I couldn't recognize it, and I remember distrusting it and the metal I felt poke my skin.

Then I woke to a leg in agony, and a hand on my shoulder, and the face of James.

_God, I missed him so much._ didn't even remember him, but I still felt his absence. I knew there was someone I was missing.

He always talked about taking me dancing, even though I told him I didn't dance for other people. He said I didn't have to, that I shouldn't. That if I dance it should just be for myself, and maybe him. He said he couldn't wait to see me in a dress. He'd save his money just to get me a nice one. Something blue, with polka dot like the women in the magazines.

Nora always wanted polka dot dress, she was just too scared to expose that much skin. And then it was ruined by another 'memory' of a dress. He put me in a dress too once, the Red Skull. I woke up in it, before I realized I was dealing with a monster wrapped in a man. When I was Nora, I saw a dress like that and it terrified me so much I tore it to pieces. Every second I didn't understand why it scared me so much only made me more afraid. I gave up on the idea of desses after that.

He was going to take me home. He always said that, he never gave up on that idea. He never let me give up on that, he kept making that promise so much I let myself risk believing in that hope. Brooklyn he said, or if that was too much, he had family in Vermont. They had a place in the country. He'd never been there so he didn't even know what the place looked like, but he knew they were good people, and they'd be happy to put them up until she got better.

He didn't know what it looked like, so neither did I and my dreams filled in the gaps themselves. That cabin by the lake with fruit trees, and him. I didn't even know who the man was. I thought he was just a collection of traits. But we were safe and happy, in our place in the country. I kept him there in my subconscious, in a world I created were we got to be in love.

I made such a horrible mistake. They tell cautionary tales about it on Asgard, how the greatest tragedy is an Asgardian who gives their heart to a mortal. Human's short lives are not their fault, despite the rarity of it in the nine realms. 'Falling in love with mortality has broken many hearts and will break your's too if you lets it' they say, but in all my 800 years before him, I never felt anything close to what I felt for James.I thought I knew what love was supposed to feel like, I had a husband and a man who tempted my heart everyday, but I learned it through the bars of a cage.

He gave me back my desire to live. I just wanted the pain to stop, I just wanted to die. If I did there would be no more experiments, no more torture, no more poisoning or surgeries. But despite my best efforts he broke my resistance down and he got inside my heart, he made me want something other then surrender. That's what broke me the most.

I saw him on the floor, bleeding from his head as they continued to beat him, as they dragged me away. I stepped in front of the gun to try and keep him safe, and it wasn't enough. I knew they killed him then.

I had to lose my memory and become someone new to learn he survived that. Only to die later. He talked so fondly of his small sickly friend, Steve. I heard so much about that man that I loved him too, the same way James did. A stubborn fool who was too noble for his own good.

It would be just the three of us, taking care of each other he said. They'd give me my own room of course, even if they had to sleep on the couch or the floor, and Steve could paint a rug on the floor for me until we got a real one. Society would think it was indecent, a women living with men she wasn't married to, Steve might for a little while too but he would understand. Then maybe someday, if I wanted, I wouldn't have to be an unmarried woman anymore.

Steve who stopped being small, and dragged him back into the fight. Steve who was always taking down HYDRA facilities, just never the one that had me! Steve who let James die! I didn't even remember that promise, but I took care of Steve anyways, even if he was the wrong Steve, even if he was the man who got the man I loved killed!

_Please, please don't let me wake up._ I don't care if this is an hallucination, or if it's really his ghost. I don't give a damn if it means I'm dying. If I am, just let me keep dying, because I get to see him again, at least once more and it's such a perfect illusion. I can even feel the callouses on his fingers as he runs them through my hair and catches my tears.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1103 HOURS

BELVEDERE CASTLE, CENTRAL PARK

79TH ST

* * *

DUNCAN AKA ALEX

* * *

_I'm actually seeing this aren't I?_ She made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a gasp as he stuck that needle in her neck but that's not what caught my attention, it was the surreal sight of his metal thumb tracing over the puncture in a caress, the first trace wiping the droplet of blood away, but the second one revealing the man under all that conditioning. _The Winter Soldier's programing was collapsing after a matter of minutes in her presence?!_

My head can't wrap itself around how that's even possible despite evidence to the contrary. It's a pile of evidence that just keeps growing.

After he discards the injection pen, he moves around the table to the head of her. He collected an abandoned red backpack on the way, and rolled it into a pillow! He was gentle as he lifted her head, and exceedingly mindful of tangling her hair in his prosthetic! He actually smoothed her hair after he fanned it out on the other side of the 'pillow'!

_She really did bring out the man!_ He's sitting there, half leaning half kneeling next to her hip now, the position almost protective. He's brushing the wet strands that clung to her damp skin into place with the rest of her hair, using the tips of his metal fingers to do it. The same fingertips try to catch her tears, their effort successful until the next ones follow the tracks of that saltwater stream. _Does she know who's touching her?_

_Does he know who he's touching?_ He's frowning softly, his expression hollow and almost completely lacking the motion of blinking. That's a sign of intense thought and concentration. It's not the clue that really convinces me he might. It's the way his eyes are fixed on her right wrist peeking out from his left hand. Her numbers used to be tattooed to there, before they were carved away with a soviet issue knife on a frozen tundra.

I made her promises, but they'll take miracles to keep now, and it looks like her miracles are all but out. Her last one one is on that table with her tracing her skin with emotions he can't puzzle out. I wanted to be the one who saved her. I wanted to save myself too, but I knew that was a life on the clock. All clocks run out. Every decision you make changes the timestamp, so let's see what this one leaves me with. "Солдат."


	104. Chapter 104

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FOUR

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1110 HOURS

SHAWARMA PALACE

1674 BROADWAY NYC 10019

* * *

CLINT

* * *

"Clint No." Brainwashing, I survived. Being used in a manipulation plot that got me shot, I survived. Taking down the helicarrier, S.H.I.E.L.D survived. Fighting Natasha, I survived. Fighting Aliens, we survived. A damn NUKE was launched, we survived. I had him on his knees crawling in front of my arrow, he should not get to survive, let alone give me his back calmly as he walks away into S.H.I.E.L.D custody!

"Clint YES! " I fire back through gritted teeth, hating the fact that Natasha is actually blocking my path here. "Nat, she is still out there and we..."

"Will find her." She cuts in without the sentence missing a beat as she rests her hand on my shoulder, looking half like she wants to give me a hug, or more likely restrain me. "But you can't be the one to interrogate him, you know this. You were his victim, AND, he knows too much about you."

"Nat I'm so sorry, I tried not to." I can see it in her eyes as she tells me why no one would ever let me have a one on one with him again. I apologized before but I can see the 'he knew too much about me' there. _I told him about Sao Paulo, the girl, the fire, all of it, the good and the bad, but the bad with the most detail._ I tried biting my tongue off the whole time but it didn't work. I just had to keep listening to 'myself' betray my friend.

"I know." Her smile is genuine, and so is the hurt in it. I know Loki used it against her, and I know Natasha would never hold it against me. She was brainwashed too once, raised in the right environment of perfection and fear, an environment that they could take the clay of childhood, and remold it into a catastrophe in a cute skirt. She got to think that those choices were her's though, that she was helping her country, not the agendas of monsters. I knew it wasn't me the whole time, and I'm still the one who did it. I can't decide what's worse.

"She woke up Nat." Her eyes tell me she didn't know that. "She remembers, at least some of it." I didn't have time to ask her how much came back, I just know amnesia may start like an off switch, but it ends with the lights flicking back on. "She remembered having a kid."

"What?!" I shake my head a little at that and laugh.

"Yeah, that was my reaction too." Nothing in anyone's files said she mothered a child, but I'll trust her memories a lot more than any old HYDRA files. It makes sense though. She always got so happy and sad in the presence of children. "He's got her thinking its his." The way her jaw tightens as she turns her gaze to the echoes of Loki's footprints makes it pretty clear she just found new levels of hate for the bastard, and she doesn't believe it either.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1111 HOURS

SHAWARMA PALACE

1674 BROADWAY NYC 10019

* * *

STEVE

* * *

"We'll get her back... Won't we Captain?" I knew she was aware I was listening, and that I was just keeping my distance out of respect. She was a spy after all, and one that had proven her skills in that, as well as combat. She earned my respect even before we fought together, her actions during the helicarrier assault cemented it. She was injured but she still got up and single handedly took down one of S.H.I.E.L.D's best agents, and her best friend. Her nod of approval when he offered to fly the quinjet for us was all I needed.

I had some prior respect for him as well, or at least the idea of him. I knew Nora had a 'brother' but I'd never met him, only heard about him. A marksman, but not a sniper she said. And that he was rather unpopular among the staff despite the fact they respected his skill, it scared them at the same time because S.H.I.E.L.D used him as an assassin.

There was nothing but praise and love in her voice for him though. She said he was her hero.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1111 HOURS

SHAWARMA PALACE

1674 BROADWAY NYC 10019

* * *

CLINT

* * *

"Yes we will." When Nat said Captain that made my eyebrows raise a fraction. I figured she'd been busy, but I didn't think she went so far as to defy the World Council's orders kind of busy. Not that I mind, because I always wanted to tell them to go fuck themselves over it too.

He's still dressed in that terrible outfit as he holds his hand out for mine. Coulson was so proud of when he helped design. That memory is stained with his absence now as I shake the hand of iss hero. "Its nice to finally meet you Agent Barton, I've heard great things. But now I'd like to hear what happened to your sister."

"I'd like to know that too Captain, but your gonna have to forgive me, I haven't had real sleep or meals for almost four days now." Now that the adrenaline is fading, its revealing the shakyness in muscles and the lightheadedness distorting my senses. If I don't get some calories in me soon I'm going to end up napping on the concrete. "Let's talk over lunch." I got a few other people I'd like to get on board this search and rescue.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1112 HOURS

SHAWARMA PALACE

1674 BROADWAY NYC 10019

* * *

NATASHA

* * *

Captain America just reinserted himself in the public eye by now I imagine. S.H.I.E.L.D would try to suppress the videos, but New York just got attacked by aliens that came through a wormhole. I wish them luck with that. He just made Nora untouchable with that very fact.

He'd been living in secret here, and people living in secret have no voice. But an entire city, and most of the world news has seen his face by now, so his voice might be the biggest one in the room. Even the world council isn't stupid enough to hurt Nora now, not when her friend could turn entire countries against them for it.

We were all sitting around a table, one of the few big enough to seat all six of us, and Clint's got his leg on my chair, because he says it aches. Not that I mind.

I also don't mind that he has taken over most of the explanation. We both sort of communicated our one condition in silence. Yes, Nora has apparently remembered who she is, but we don't know how much. We also don't know the situation that put her on earth in the first place, so we're not mentioning she is an Asgardian. If we do, Thor will almost definitely drag her back to Asgard, and if she doesn't remember that place, it will be like a prison to her. Surrounded by strangers and trapped in the same giant cage as the man who abused her.

Clint choose the category of gifted instead, and then Tony went and opened his big mouth a little too far.

* * *

FRIDAY, MAY 4TH 2012

1112 HOURS

SHAWARMA PALACE

1674 BROADWAY NYC 10019

* * *

CLINT

* * *

I covered how Nora was basically my adopted sister. I covered how when Loki took me he made a side trip to kidnap her. I covered how Nora was once was a prisoner of HYDRA. I covered how despite looking young, she was at least older than Steve. I covered how we weren't quite sure why she didn't seem to age, but how the SSR found her frozen, so it might be similar to the Supersoldier serum. I covered how she had abilities which HYDRA wanted to give to their soldiers. Then lastly I covered how ever since she woke up there was no display of those abilities or her memory of them, but Loki took her because he wanted them too.

The story got responses from all over the emotional spectrum. Sympathy, anger, guilt, confusion, and then there was Tony. "Wait, so you're saying Cap could have pulled a Captain Kirk and I didn't even secure video rights?"

I'm pretty sure, _yep, a quick check confirms it,_ everybody stopped chewing at that, even Thor and Steve who didn't get the reference. _Thank god._

"You know,..." I know just what encounter he's talking about. He showed up on schedule after the congo incident, and Nora was on guide duty. She put her elbow through a god damned computer screen during that encounter, and I had to be formally ordered not to hurt Stark, or send someone to do it for me. Nobody's giving me that order now. "... No one will stop me from breaking your face right?"

He gets this cocky self assured smirk on his face as he relaxes in his chair and looks at Banner. The smirk fades as Banner lifts his hands and slides his chair. "Oh no, I will move." I like the doctor more already.

"Really, Banner." Now Stark just looks offended. "I thought we bonded, big green and all." And nervous, because Dr. Banner's responds with he's a pacifist.

He knows that Natasha and Captain arent his allies in this either, so his second option that he looks to for defense is Thor, and that goes just as well for him as asking Banner did. "I too side with Agent Barton 'Mister' Stark. I do not know what this 'Captain Kirk' means but you have obviously insulted his sister's honor as well as the Captains, as her brother it is his right to exact physical retribution." _Woot for Asgardians letting me kick people's asses._

"Okay, fine. I submit that I am a completely insensitive ass, but volunteer my services to go rescue your probably is a alien sister, all in favor?" He holds out his hand like we're all going to do a group shake or something, and everyone leaves him hanging once I utter my next word.

"No, for a couple reasons. Last time she saw you, she needed stitches because you tried to kiss her." His look of fake confusion is really not helping my desire to punch him. "And two, don't call her an alien. She's gifted, it's not as unusual as you think. There's a fireproof man who uses that to wow crowds in street performances. You are a completely insensitive ass though, I will accept that one."

"And you." I say next as I turn my attention to Banner. "She is probably going to need medical attention, and S.H.I.E.L.D putting a shoot on sight order out on her isn't going to help those trust issues."

I turn my attention quickly to Captain Rogers after that sentence. "Loki brainwashed me at the drop of a hat, they had to assume he did that too her too."

"I'll help." I can see the unspoken 'I know what it's like to be scared of the government' in his eyes is he joins the team again. _Banner signed on, okay good._

But then Thor tries too. "I too offer my help, as it was my brother who..."

"I appreciate the offer Thor, but no." He looks offended by the interruption, which I guess being a Prince makes sense, but I don't care. "It's nice you want to make up for his sins and all, but the sooner he leaves Earth, the sooner we can quit worrying about him making another escape. You want to help my sister, take that bastard somewhere he can never touch her again."

He agrees with a nod this time, and a look of deep respect.

"So then..." It's Steve who poses the next question. "So where do we start looking?"

And Natasha who starts offering the answers. "Well, she wasn't with him, so he must have placed her somewhere safe, but close by, and most likely with guards. There are several S.H.I.E.L.D supply caches and safe houses in the area, our best bet is to start with those."

"I can go with Steve?" He gives her his consent "Clint can cover enough ground on his own, if you'd like to go back to the tower Bruce? The building took a lot of hits, this will give you time to clean up the medical wing if you have too."

"Tony, you can help too, get that AI of yours involved. If you can hack into the camera, you might see in one of them, save us a lot of time."

Smart ass can't just say yes. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought I was benched this round. Well I guess if you need me..."


	105. Chapter 105

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FIVE

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE

* * *

SATURDAY, MAY 5TH 2012

1001 HOURS

BELVEDERE CASTLE, CENTRAL PARK

79TH ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

The first word I said was no, if you overlook the choking gasps and screaming.

It wasn't a rubber band anymore, and it wasn't in my head. It felt like a chain, tied to a car, and I was fixed to the spot. It felt like my sternum was going to tear right off, and honestly I think that would have been nice, because at least the pain would have stopped.

Part of me knew it was in my head, because I had my arms wrapped around me so tightly my hands were numb from their grip on each other, and because I could see my chest, perfectly stationary and intact as I kicked and writhed in futility.

I needed to do something to stop the pain, I just didn't know what to do. I didn't even what was causing it. Was this happening to Loki? How could he even survive this, if they were tearing off his chest? How could I even survive this?

I lost the ability to scream at a point, mostly due to the fact I barely retained the ability to breath. Even then the pain kept growing as the tension increased.

Then it slowed, then it settled. The pain still agonizing but bearable in its consistency. It became less like the hook at the end of a taut chain, and more like a red ball of barbed wire.

That's when I realized there was a hand tied to my hand. It was held there by two zip ties, one around the wrist, and the other around the block of the hand, palm pressed to palm, and our fingers interlaced. It was a man's hand despite the purple shade of it, with a bandage that had old blood staining the center of it, where a hole was placed by a bullet.

I was wrong, the pain just got worse again, and I can't breath again. _Duncan?!_

He's just sitting there, leaning against the wall with his head hung like he was sleeping. But the sleeping don't smell of ammonia, feces and rotten meat. The sleeping don't turn purple at their lowest points from the blood pooling under gravity's pull. They don't have pale lips and waxy skin that's mottled with blue and green blotches. Their eyes aren't sunken into their skulls. The sleeping are not dead.

The sleeping don't leave messages, only the dying.

There's a wet circle on the top of his thighs, one that doesn't connect with the pubble of thin brown liquid beneath him, and its the size of a human head. My head. I was laying there, sleeping in the edges of that puddle, with my head on his lap.

I remember dreaming of James, James with dark hair, James who was a man. Duncan has dark hair, and is also a man, and while James was a hallucination, Duncan was always very real. He must have been the hands I felt, he must have tried to fix me, and I...

Gypsies, Jews, Romanians, Russians, Americans, POW's from every country including a few of their own for being spies and traitors. They made me kill them all. When I was too weak for them to cut another piece out of me, they made me kill them so they could torture me more. They knocked me out to make sure I would. because when I'm unconscious I can't stop my body from trying to preserve its life, from ripping it out of others.

"NO. NO!, NO!, NO!" _I didn't want him to die. I tried to save him._ Why would he hold me like that? He could feel it, I know he could. They all could feel it. I remember some of them screaming and crying, whether it was because I woke up in the process, or because he recorded it for 'science'. Why would he tie himself to me! Why would he let me kill him, make me kill him?

Why would he write me a message, did he really think it would make it okay?

Its okay : ) don't compl \

The letters got sloppier as they went, until the last one was just an uneven line, as his arm lost its strength, and dragged back to where it rested near his thigh. He wrote all of that on the floor, in his blood. Even that damn smiley face!

"You idiot! WHY?!" My hands are on him again now, and I rip his free from mine. The zip ties are solid even if they break with surprising ease under my fingers, proof that Idunn's apples have been restoring my strength. His hand isn't, its about as soulless as candle wax, and so is the rest of him, but I refuse to acknowledge that. I've never been good at accepting finality. I didn't with Kenna, or Skari, or James, and I can't seem to make myself now.

"I wanted you to live!" The magick moves where I want it, even if its weak. Its so much weaker than I thought it would be. It's like the connections aren't actually touching. Like I'm holding the plug half way out of the socket and expecting it to make the lamp work. Its flickering at best, and all its doing is forming tumors.

Even dead flesh has life in it. There is still energy lingering in the cells, but their object has changed. The body releases a chemical, and once that happens all the cells know how to do is break down. I'm trying to bring him back to life but all I'm really doing is making that process happen faster, one piece of decomposition at a time.

"I didn't want you to die, I didn't want to be your killer! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?" Frustration, guilt, rage, and confusion get the better of me, followed almost immediately by the urge to vomit. My emotions took control of my limbs for a moment too long, and my fist struck his torso, getting stuck inside his chest cavity as one of the ribs shifted out of the way.

I had to wrestle back out, which wasn't as easy as I wanted it to be. On the first yank it took his body with it, making him almost fall into my lap. My other hand stopped that, but had to feel his shoulder squish like a thick paste beneath his clothes. I finally got free when the bone snapped free of the soft cartilage, and then I barely stumbled out the door in time to throw up on a stone wall.

It's not enough, my next breath makes the urge return even stronger. The smell is still there. Its essence soaked into my hair. I can feel it stinging my eyes and smearing across my skin in thick strands!

I know this city, I know this park. I know the building I just stumbled out of once I steal enough seconds between the dry heaves to glance around. I know there's a lake down at the bottom of the hill.

I also discover another problem very quickly. There are poles tied to my leg. That wouldn't be an issue if it weren't for the fact that they're sticking a fraction beyond the flatness of my foot, making each step awkward and jarring. I don't know how it didn't happen as I all but ran to the wall, but the cobblestone pavers catch those edges now.

There's three curved stairs at the edge of the cobblestone, and I miss them all. I don't miss the raw stone slope though, or the bushes and trees on the side of it. I hate those bushes and trees.

My leg and my chest are basically screaming from that pain, and the damn branches crumble to splinters when I try to use them to pull myself up. I could level this park, and it wouldn't be enough to stop the pain.

My leg feels stronger beneath the splint even as I wrestle with it. Despite the strength Idunn's fruit seemed to return to me, it isn't enough to loosen the knots Duncan put there, that handsome stupid bastard is still getting in my way.

There isn't any difference in the burning ache sitting on my chest, and burrowing in my heart. I'm so tired of killing poeple, of killing things. I'm even mourning those trees a little as I hobble back to the stone path. I do have one more life though that I wouldn't mind taking, and Loki's last words will not involve comforting affirmations or smiles.

* * *

SATURDAY, MAY 5TH 2012

1004 HOURS

BELVEDERE CASTLE, CENTRAL PARK

79TH ST

* * *

NYPD OFFICER

* * *

I thought it was a woman at first. It definitely looked like one, even in the weird clothes. We got a call about a break in at the Castle, and our sergeant told us to check it out. We didn't need a bunch of those aliens taking a fortified position. They all seemed dead, but who knew if they might get back up. Plus there was a chance it might be humans who broke in, looking for a place. Somebody should check and make sure they aren't hurt and tell them the invasion is over. _I really hope it's over._

Then I saw her, she stumbled and fell down the path. I almost called out until I saw the tree fall next. It wasn't just a tree falling like its trunk was cracked. It looked like paper soaking up too much water, it just sort of curves and bent under the weight of its branches like a wet noodle. That was enough to convince me and Brian to keep our mouths shut.

I'm really glad we did too. She's stumbled off out of sight down the hill, and we're looking at the place she landed. There's dead plants, and animals all around. A few of the squirrels and birds are even in their last last throws.

We both become even more blessed by are caution when we look in the castle itself. "Call for backup." There's a dead man slouching against the wall that I guarantee hasn't been there as long as he looks. "Call for a lot of it."


	106. Chapter 106

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.
> 
> You can also find this story on FANFICTION.NET under the same title and pen name, and don't forget to check out the Photobucket album by the same name at http://s1259.photobucket.com/user/morgianesff/library/that%20which%20wanders%20is%20unaware

DAY FIVE

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIX

* * *

SATURDAY, MAY 5TH 2012

1020 HOURS

ST LUKE'S AFRICAN EPISCOPAL

1854 AMSTERDAM AVE

* * *

CLINT

* * *

"So we're going to a church?" He sounds incredulous, like he is waiting for me to say I'm kidding, which I get because he doesn't know the history of the building.

"St. Luke's African Methodist Episcopal, used to be the 32nd precinct." My logic makes more sense to him now, and quells some of hesitation about conducting a warrantless search of a church. They may not use it for housing police officers and prisoners anymore, but that doesn't mean the building isn't still designed for that, and odds are there are still cells that were left in, and just repurposed into storage.

"And your people used it as a base? The confusion returns a little when I shake my head. "No, but if I was going to guard a kidnapped woman, it's definitely in a place that might have prison cells in the basement."

"And a semi crash with automatic weapons happened on this street." Having a cop with me already proved to my advantage, because it got me that information. I wouldn't have heard about that if I didn't have the officer with me, and think to ask if he could check into any strange reports prior to the attack. Apparently someone took out a semi with an anti tank weapon, and left quite a few dead in tactical gear, with way too much firepower for NYC. "And a semi crash with automatic weapons happened on this street."

I want to be in that building already, but even I know the sense of patience. If my suspicions are right, and they are in there Her guards will be carrying semi automatics at the very least. If they're outfitted like the men I led on the helicarrier attack, they will probably have grenades too, and bullet proof armor. I take that cop in there without waiting for backup, and I'll get him killed. I'm done getting people killed for the day.

However after he finishes calling for back up, the urge returns because I hear something I really don't want to hear come across the radio. "Get them to repeat that!"

The urgency in my voice makes him shift back in confusion, and furthers my impatience. "Make him repeat that!"

This time his confusion doesn't get in the way of following that order. "Officer Saunders here, say again."

"Calling all available units. Turtle pond in Central Park. We've cornered the alien commander. Do not approach, target has some kind of biological weapon. She's taken a hostage. Snipers requested."

"I thought it was a him, I thought you sent him back!" God dammit! I can't press the keys fast enough!

"WE DID! TELL THEM TO STOP!" _Come on nat, PICK UP!_

* * *

SATURDAY, MAY 5TH 2012

1021 HOURS

TURTLE POND, CENTRAL PARK

79TH ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

I can feel the water seeping over the edge of my boots and squish between my toes as I continue to back further into the pond, and away from the wall of guns aimed in our direction.

I found one of the alien's staffs along the path, absent of an alien owner that I could see, and I used it as cane.

I felt weak, and lightheaded. My vision was blurring at the edges, as if I was severely dehydrated. That wasn't even accounting for the dull burning ache still sitting on my chest, or the way it spiked every time I stumbled because of the splints sticking past my heel. I fell into a thorn bush too at one one point, opening up new cuts as my hands made the mistake of trying to grab something.

I hated that, but I suppose I also owe that bush something because that's when I realized I wasn't alone.

I'm not Loki, but that doesn't mean I'm not skilled. I served in his hall. I was his personal attendant, he disregarded my gender and said that 'it was a tradition for a prince to have males as servants, not a law' and I was his assistance when we created his beasts. I am no mistress of illusions, but in my service to him I learned how to create projections. They were necessary in our research, and even as out of practice as I am, they proved useful still.

I feigned ignorance about noticing them as I struggled back to my feet awkwardly, and then I cast a shadow behind the farthest one. It panicked him, as it has done many other men braver than he in the past. If I didn't know what it was, having an amorphous mass of black smoke rise up behind me would terrify me as well.

But I do know what it was, and I also know that when you swing a spear the momentum does more damage the the sharpness of the tip, and I wasn't even using that end. I hit one of them in the head, knocking him out, and making the other one lift his gun.

He hesitated though. He should have just shot me, instead he didn't squeeze the trigger because I was a woman and I was bleeding. Idiot. When the shadow lunged at him his instincts made him panic, so did the roots that shifted under his feet. I was missing a boot after all, there was nothing between my foot and the earth. The end of the spear made quick work of his consciousness.

I left him there, after I handcuffed him to a tree. I could of killed them, both of them. The pain I was in certainly wanted me to. It actually itched trying to keep my magick from sinking into their skin and stealing their lives. I was tired of killing people though.

That didn't stop me from dragging the smaller one away after I stripped him of his weapons.

This was a cop, and they saw me before I saw them. I have no doubts they reported that knowledge. I also have no doubts it's not the only knowledge they have.

The sun is in the wrong position. The last time I saw Duncan alive the sun was farther along its path then it is now, that means it's set and rose again since then. I was unconscious for almost a day, and things have happened. I need to know what happened, and I need him alive and alone to ask those questions.

I didn't succeed in the alone part. I made it down the hill past a statue of a king on a horse, and to the edge of a rocky outcropping by the pond. My goal was to get him in the water. I didn't plan to actually drown him, but I did plan to let the fear work for me. Then I head to change my plans because he was regaining consciousness, and there were bodies with guns coming down the hill.

* * *

SATURDAY, MAY 5TH 2012

1023 HOURS

TURTLE POND, CENTRAL PARK

79TH ST

* * *

STEVE

* * *

I'd barely met up with Natasha and parked my bike before she pulled out her phone. The way her breath caught and her eyes widened was the only clue I needed that something was wrong, and when she started running through the park I wasted no time chasing after her. A chase that ended with at least a dozen pistols aimed at us and an awful lot of yelling.

"PLEASE, I GOT TWO DAUGHTERS, MEGAN AND SARA..."

"SHUT UP! WHERE IS HE?"

"PLEASE! I DON'T KNOW! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!"

"PUT THE WEAPON DOWN AND LET GO OF THE OFFICER, THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!"

The sight of Natasha and I running up on the back of the police barricade created a pause in the yelling, before it renewed with different direction.

"WHOA, HANDS UP!"

"FEDERAL AGENT! DON'T SHOOT, SHE'S ONE OF OURS, DON'T SHOT!"

And the tension didn't get any thinner when even more S.H.I.E.L.D Agents arrived on the scene, meeting guns with guns as they came to the defense of Agent Romanoff.

"EVERYONE STAND DOWN!"

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? YOU STAND DOWN FIRST!"

But I had no guns, and my attention wasn't on the stand off between shield and the NYPD, it was past the wall of bodies, toward the two in the pond, and the set of green eyes fixed on mine.

She looks... I don't know what she looks like, other then different.

She's dressed in green and black, leather and metal. _She's dressed like him!_ The collar is stiff and high, reaching half way up her neck, and the ridge of it is decorated in a line of square rivets that look like tarnished gold. There is a clasp of the same metal that rest over the center of her collarbone before the leather angles out to a gold medallion on the right side of her chest, I can't see the left because of the man she's holding but I imagine it's mirrored on that side too.

Her top is formed leather, that is cut like a wide sloping Y with two thin strps of green fabric, then it turns into alternating angled strips of more leather before it reaches her waist. I can see the sides are green and gold stripes though, that wrap around her ribs to her back.

She has a leather belt too, of the same black, decorated by gold medallions, at least three, and the shapes alternating between squares and rectangles. Then there's the skirt. Black leather with an asymmetrical flap of green, and another panel of leather set evenly in it, decorated with some sort of square mail.

It's a dress, Nora is standing there, looking at me as she's restraining a man and wearing a dress?! Nora's terrified of showing that much skin, but the expression in her eyes, it's not terror, it's, more like the inability to settle on a feeling and I know it has nothing to do with the fact she is in a skirt. "You're here?!" but it seems to have a lot to do with me.

* * *

SATURDAY, MAY 5TH 2012

1024 HOURS

TURTLE POND, CENTRAL PARK

79TH ST

* * *

NATASHA

* * *

We were about to start our searching our section, when I got Clint's message.

THEY THINK SHE'S LOKI, TURTLE POND, CENTRAL PARK.

It didn't make sense, but I didn't question it either. All I knew and cared was it meant we knew where Nora was, and we needed to get there fast.

I get why they think she is Loki know. A bunch of fuzzy youtube videos recorded with cell phones didn't exactly give the greatest pictures of his face when he put on that show in Germany, but the clothes she is wearing now are close enough it would be hard not to make the connection. The fact that she is holding a cop prisoner doesn't exactly help either.

They think she is Loki, the alien that tried to destroy their city, and most likely killed at least a dozen of their friends and family members. Reason is pretty much out the window, and even those who might have doubts about whether she is Loki or not, are probably still planning on shooting her just because of the obvious association.

Except Steve, Captain America, is in the line of fire, with his hands raised as he inches closer to the edge of the rock ledge. "Yes, Nora, I'm here."

* * *

SATURDAY, MAY 5TH 2012

1025 HOURS

TURTLE POND, CENTRAL PARK

79TH ST

* * *

STEVE

* * *

The scenes calmed a bit. The guns are still lifted and aimed, but both sides have taken notice of what's going on.

I'm not a hostage negotiator, but that's about what I'm doing now. Even before I donned the red white and blue costume, I had a way with words. I could bring out the better sides of people just by talking, and that's what I plan to do now. She was with Loki for four days, and I'm sure whatever he put in her head is making her do this, all I need to do is remind her who she really is.

But she is wary, and beneath the expression that looks like anger, I can detect the fear. It's not just in her. As she tightens her grip around the officer's throat and drags him back he all but whimpers out a short plea before she hisses at him to shut up.

"Officer, you're going to be alright, just calm down." He's young, somewhere between 20 and 25 if I had to guess, and I can tell that he is still green from the academy. But his response makes his nervousness all the more understandable.

"Please, don't let her kill me, I can barely move. Why can't I move?!" That explains why Nora is overpowering him. A police officer should have been able to break free of that hold easily, even an untrained civilian should have been able to manage it. Then there was also the fact that I knew Nora shouldn't be strong enough to physically restrain someone against their will. But if he's stuck in some sort of paralysis it makes much more sense.

"I don't know, but you need to trust me, I won't let her hurt you." My best guess is that she is drugged with something. But I don't dwell on that the possibility, because I'm more concerned with the certainties.

"You make no decisions for me!" Such is the look of rage that settles into her face. I've never seen her look so mad, so foreign in the face of my friend.

"No, you're right..." I offer, holding up my hands in a gesture of apology and surrender. " ...I don't, but I know you don't want to be a killer."

* * *

SATURDAY, MAY 5TH 2012

1026 HOURS

TURTLE POND, CENTRAL PARK

79TH ST

* * *

CLINT

* * *

"I AM A KILLER!" That's what I ran in on. Nora is in the pond with a hostage held at spear point and the Captain, surrounded by cops and guns, and if it wasn't for Natasha intercepting me, my own would have been out too.

She saw me arrive, I know she did from the way her eyes meet mine. She has tears in them as she looks at Nat rest her hands against my shoulders in caution. She answers the soft sound of her name on my voice with a morbid declaration. "I live on the death of others, of him."

 _No, not don't say that!_ She's still held under the barrel of a dozen pistols, and that sounds too much like a threat against the one she has in a headlock. I'm not the only one who thinks that. Steve's words all but mirror my thoughts.

"Nora, hey, no" He stops and gestures over his shoulder at the officers "Stand down." Before he acts on faith and gives them his back again to focus on her. "Don't say that, please. Just talk to me okay?"

* * *

SATURDAY, MAY 5TH 2012

1027 HOURS

TURTLE POND, CENTRAL PARK

79TH ST

* * *

OFFICER SAUNDERS

* * *

The woman in that water, I know she's loved. I know she's supposed to be sweet and kind. I know she is supposed to be gentle. I know she's been through hell. "I have nothing to say to you! You left me there, you let us die!" and I know she is probably a little bit insane right now. The way she is talking all but confirms it. Stress, mental illness, or some sort of drug, it doesn't matter. She's not thinking rationally.

"Us?" The Captain's eyes turn back toward us, seeking out the red head and the archer with confusion etched in his brow, but they return it with their own. They don't know why she used that word either. "Nora I didn't know Loki took you, I just..."

"I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT HIM! TELL ME WHERE HE IS?!" I don't have time to puzzle over the conflicting messages in those two sentences, because once again her shouting makes me have to re-order the men to hold their fire. The woman's a little crazy, but she is also with the government, and the heroes of our city.

"Nora, he's gone, Loki's gone. Thor took him back to Asgard. It's over, you safe." Then she is also calm.

Actually calm isn't the right word. A better description is slack. Her face, her arms, her whole stance, from her emotions down to her embrace. It just weakens and falls limp, along with the cop she was holding. He stumbles and almost gets a face full of water, the look in his eyes borderline terrified at the idea he might drown.

Its a concern that proves pointless, because his weak muscles seem to regain their strength by the second, and he is soon stumbling up the hill at the best run he can imagine, leaving the woman alone in the pond mud, chuckling. "He's gone. You...you idiot, you let him, leave, with...heh."

"Nora please, put the weapon down. You're safe. Its over" There's nothing visible, not with her face hanging the way it is when the Captain utters that sentence, but it raises my hackles.

"It is never over." She was silent too long, she was still too long. I saw it coming, just as sure as I see the smoke issuing out of my pistol. She lefted that weapon, and pointed it at him. _I HAD TO, SHE WAS GOING TO SHOOT CAPTAIN AMERICA._ The fist that cracks me cheek is worth it, I deserve it.

* * *

SATURDAY, MAY 5TH 2012

1028 HOURS

TURTLE POND, CENTRAL PARK

79TH ST

* * *

AR(NORA)

* * *

I'm sure I heard the sound, but my ears didn't really process it. Just like it didn't really register when two rounds of force sent me stumbling off my feet, and made me drop the spear, my fingers drifting away from a trigger they never even touched. They always say 'rip through you' when they talk about bullets, but it didn't feel like ripping. It didn't feel like anything. It's better this way. _Finally, the pain doesn't hurt any more. Finally..._

* * *

EPILOGUE

* * *

\- - - /|/ - - - /|/ - - - /|/ - - - /|/ - - - /|/- - - /|/ - - - /|/ - - - /|/ - - - /|/ - - - /|/ - - - /|/ - - - /|/ - - - /|/ - - - /|/ - - - /|/ - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Ladies and Gentlemen, and Goodbye. at least for a little while. 
> 
> Yes, you guessed it. We have reached the end of this Story, but fear not, this is going to be a series after all. I am taking the month off from posting so I can get a stack of the sequel and prequels built up and will resume posting September 2016.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this story is much is I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you join me on the next section of Arnora's journey through the MCU.


End file.
